Come Rain or Come Shine
by knittycat99
Summary: Summary: Sometimes the journey *is* the destination. This is a Klaine and a Kurtofsky-friendly story; there is no character bashing here. Co-written with nubianamy.
1. Chapter 1

_(Author's note: The idea for this story came pouring out of us in Knitty's kitchen, both of us talking a mile a minute as we plotted and schemed. When we walked away from the outline, it was already 4k. Now that we've actually come to write it down, it looks a little different than the way we'd originally thought. The endgame is still in question, but we hope you will enjoy the angst-filled rollercoaster ride. Spoilers through season 2, but it deviates from canon after that. Warnings for discussion of suicide. This is a Klaine and Kurtofsky-friendly story; no character-bashing here. - amy and knittycat)_

* * *

**2012**

There was no way Kurt was not going to pick up when the call came in from Dave Karofsky, not after what had happened, but he still felt a twinge of anxiety, watching Blaine across the table from him. Blaine raised an eyebrow, nodding at Kurt's phone inquisitively.

"_David,"_ he mouthed, and Blaine just nodded, not even making one comment. Blaine wouldn't, either, not anymore, even if he was as far from being Dave's biggest fan as one could be. He sat there patiently and kept his focus away from the phone, giving Kurt a little mental space in which to listen.

It had happened recently enough that Kurt was still a little scared every time he talked to Dave that something could have happened to him. Not that Dave ever said it was going to, or even that Kurt would expect it of him, exactly. Rather, it was now, Kurt _cared_ more than he had before. The memories of that guilt-ridden day in the hospital when Dave had struggled to explain his reasons, they'd haunted him. Not so much because he thought he absolutely could have done something to stop Dave if he'd really been determined to go through with it, but because he _knew_ he didn't want to be the kind of person who said he wanted to be somebody's friend and then didn't actually do anything about it.

"Hey there," he said cheerfully-but-not-too-cheerfully, leaning back in his chair.

"Hey." Dave still sounded uncertain on the phone, as though he were waiting for Kurt to say _okay, done with this now._ Kurt felt determined not to let that happen. He wasn't going to be a fake friend, but he also wasn't going to pretend to want to be Dave's real one. He was going to _actually_ be his friend, not just because Dave needed one, but because Kurt had meant it when he'd said he wanted to. He heard Dave cough. "So... uh. Terrence?"

Dave's therapist wasn't gay, as far as Kurt knew, no matter how gay his name sounded. "Yes? What, is he making you do those breathing exercises again? Because those are the worst -"

"He's making me go to a fucking PFLAG meeting is what he's doing."

Kurt's mouth closed with a snap. Dave sounded more than annoyed - well, that too, but yes, more than that. He sounded terrified. _That's scaring you,_ he wanted to say, but he didn't want Blaine to hear it. It wasn't fair to make Blaine scared, too. That would have made three of them, because the prickle down his back wasn't lying. He shifted forward in his seat again, drumming his leg with the palm of his hand.

"It's not the end of the world," he said, as calmly as he could manage.

"Yeah, you would say that." Dave's sigh was far too dramatic, but instead of driving Kurt to annoyance, as a similar reaction from Blaine would have done, Kurt just felt sorry for him. It was true. Kurt didn't mind support groups. Talking about himself in front of strangers, that was kind of awesome. But it seemed to be causing Dave actual pain.

"Why don't I go with you?"

The idea was out of his mouth before he even realized he was thinking it, and he froze mid-drum, watching Blaine glance up quizzically. _What?_ he mouthed. Kurt shook his head.

"Uh, _no,"_ said Dave emphatically. "Just... no."

"It'd be a lot harder to back out if somebody came with you. I wouldn't need to walk in with you, if you were..." Kurt let the sentence trail away into silence.

Dave sounded suspicious. "If I were _what?"_

"You know." Kurt flushed and turned to the side, just a quarter turn - like it was going to keep Blaine from hearing what he said. "Embarrassed."

"About - you mean about you?"

Kurt frowned, straightening his shirt. "Don't sound so surprised. This isn't the first time you've told me you don't want to go with me somewhere, and it won't be the -"

"You know what, Kurt? _Screw you._" Dave just sounded tired. This wasn't what Kurt had intended.

"You know it's the truth, so don't be mad at me for saying it. I _know_ all the ways I push your buttons, David. I just thought I'd offer support. That's what friends do, isn't it?"

"Yeah, maybe." He paused, then added in a rush, "I can just see it all in my head, how it would be to walk into that stupid meeting with you, and to feel like -" He cut himself off with a frustrated sigh.

"Like what?" Kurt tried not to watch Blaine watching him. He looked curious, and concerned, and kind of morbidly fascinated like he really _didn't _want to know what Dave was saying.

"Like... such a fucking loser."

"You're not a loser." Kurt tucked his phone further into his shoulder and lowered his voice even more. "And PFLAG isn't just for gay kids. You don't even have to come out there, if you don't want.

"Yeah. Right. Kurt, you think I could set one foot in a room with rainbows on the freaking door and have anybody assume I'm not - like that?"

"Well." Kurt let out a slightly bitter laugh. "You sure surprised _me_ that day, in the locker room. I always thought I had impeccable gaydar, but apparently I was wrong."

There was a brief silence. For a moment, Kurt wondered if he'd pushed Dave too far. It was still hard to predict whether that particular topic would feel hurtful or teasing, when either of them brought it up. Then he heard Dave chuckle, and Kurt let out a relieved breath.

"Nice to know you're not good at _everything," _Dave muttered.

Kurt smiled even though Dave couldn't see him. "Think about it and let me know, if you want me to go with you?"

Dave made some grumbly non-committal noises, but Kurt felt pretty sure that even if he wasn't ready to do it yet, Dave would invite him to go with him eventually. It was a little surprising to feel like he knew Dave well enough to predict his responses.

He tucked his phone back into his bag and moved to sit next to Blaine. Somehow he needed that extra physical contact after dealing with Dave's angst.

"How's he doing?" Blaine asked, squeezing his hand.

"He's hanging in there. I think -" Kurt paused and rubbed at the space between his eyes. "I think he still has a long way to go before he's really comfortable with himself. I'm sure he'll get there, but I don't expect it's going to happen quickly." _Or easily_, he thought to himself. _Dave is still so hung up on appearances_.

"Well, he's lucky to have a friend like you." Blaine's tone was a little forced, but Kurt appreciated how hard he was trying. He leaned over and kissed his cheek, eliciting a pleased smile.

"He deserves it," Kurt said, and he was pretty sure he meant it.

* * *

Dayton PFLAG met in the basement of the Unitarian Church. Kurt had to take a deep breath before walking inside, and he felt Dave's eyes on him.

"I thought you were here to calm _me_ down." Dave rolled his head around and shrugged his shoulders like he was gearing up to jump into an ice-cold pool.

"Churches and I have a difficult relationship."

Dave's eyes went wide, and Kurt was momentarily afraid that Dave was panicking. But when he spoke, he was teasing in a way Kurt had never heard before. "I thought this was a support group. It's not like anyone is going to try to convert us or anything."

Kurt laughed hard enough to draw the attention of the three kids already in the room. Dave flushed red, pulling back from Kurt as they emerged from the dark hallway, but he didn't turn around and walk back out, which is what Kurt half expected him to do.

"I have to assume all Christians are out to convert me," he said under his breath. "I'm just that awesome."

Dave snorted gracelessly. "Be careful," he warned. "It would be terrible if I had to go to therapy next week and tell Terrence that we got kicked out of PFLAG for being unruly."

"Oh, because you're always such a _good_ boy," Kurt retorted. The way Dave's eyes bugged out, Kurt thought he might actually kick him in the shin for that one.

"Shut up," Dave growled. But when Kurt dared to glance at him, the edges of his mouth were twitching like he was trying to keep from full-on grinning. It was the most relaxed Kurt had seen him since that night at Scandals, and maybe the most real he'd _ever_ seen Dave.

There was a bowl of Oreo cookies and a pile of blank name tags next to a package of markers in rainbow colors. Kurt wrote his name in red and affixed it to his vest, but Dave just took a name tag and held it in his hand, staring at it.

"You don't have to wear a name tag," said the girl sitting across from them. "Nobody would think it was weird. New kids usually don't."

She stood and walked over to them, and Kurt blinked, because she didn't hold herself like any girl he'd ever met. Her name tag was blank.

"Are you a new kid?" Dave asked. Kurt was surprised to hear him talking to the girl, or indeed at all.

"Nah," she said. "I've been coming here for years. I'm still finding the right name. My parents named me Michelle, which. Well. Would be fine if I was a girl."

Dave peered at her. "Yeah, you don't look like a Mickey."

Her - _his?_ - laughter was infectious. "I've heard people suggest _Mitch._ But I think that'd be too familiar. _Mickey._ Jesus."

Dave took a breath and clapped his hand on not-Michelle's shoulder. "The right name'll find you. But what should I call you, really? Because _hey you_ just isn't good manners."

"Michelle's fine for now, until I figure it out. What about you?"

"Um..." Dave glanced at Kurt, who nodded. "I guess you could... call me DJ."

Michelle held out her hand and shook Dave's. "Nice to meet you, DJ. And . . ." she glanced at Kurt's name tag. "Kurt. This is Dylan, and Aimee. There'll be more kids coming, but don't feel like you have to learn everyone's name the first night."

Kurt smiled his thanks and nodded at the circle of chairs. "I guess we should get comfortable," he said to Dave. Dave still looked a little bit like he'd rather be trapped in a snake pit, or maybe an alligator-infested swamp, but he grabbed three Oreos out of the bowl and dropped into a chair next to Kurt, across the circle from Dylan and Aimee.

He had expected it to be facilitated by an adult, but the guy in charge couldn't have been much older than they were. He introduced himself as Shawn, and had a really aggressive smile. Kurt could tell he meant well, but he could see Dave shutting down as the guy prodded them to share about what was significant about their week.

Kurt shifted in his chair. He had to do something to break up the tension from all of the serious stories the others were telling. When it was his turn to share he felt his cheeks go a little hot before he blurted out, "My stepmother wasn't supposed to be home, so my boyfriend and I were, um. Testing out the stability of the kitchen table. And then Carole walked in."

Dave went from shocked to snorting with laughter in a matter of seconds. It started a chain reaction. The last one to join in was Shawn, and even though he looked a little uncertain, he was smiling a little more casually.

"Was she upset?" he asked. He directed the question to Dave. It took Kurt a beat too long to realize why, but Dave just laughed harder.

"What, you think the kitchen table could handle me? Five bucks says I'd reduce it to kindling in less than twenty minutes." His eyes flashed. "Fifteen if I was on top."

Kurt just shook his head and kept laughing until there were tears streaming down his face and he had to gasp for breath. "No, no," he finally said. "We're not - no. We're just friends. I'm here for moral support."

Dave nodded. "Kurt drove me so I couldn't back out. I'm hoping to get bonus points from my therapist if I stay for the whole meeting _and_ participate."

"Well, you can tell your therapist you get full marks," Shawn assured him.

Dave settled back into his chair, nibbling on the outside of one of his Oreos. He didn't say a whole lot more for the rest of the hour, but he was definitely listening, and when Aimee talked about her dad's negative reaction to her coming out, he nodded in response.

"DJ, have you come out to your parents?" asked Shawn. Kurt wasn't sure if the question would shut him down again, but Dave just shrugged.

"I told them I was gay," he said. "But I don't know if that really counts. They don't even know who I am. That's just this tiny little piece of all of it, you know? And I don't know if they want to look any closer to see the rest, now. I think if I really came out, it would mean - being myself with them. I don't think I'll ever do that."

Kurt spent half a second considering before he reached out and grabbed Dave's hand, giving it a firm _it's okay_ squeeze. Dave squeezed back, which told Kurt it really was okay.

It wasn't until they were in the car on the way home that Kurt said, casually, "Why DJ?"

"I don't know. They called me that at camp when I was a kid, because there was already a David. My middle name's James." He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, his eyes on the highway in front of them. "There was... a kid. At camp, like Michelle. He still went by a girl's name, too, but we all knew he was really a guy, and it was okay? Like, I don't think any of those guys would have known what to call it, or even if he would have known to tell us, but he was just... one of us, and it was fine."

"I hope you don't mind me continuing to call you David, at least outside of PFLAG," said Kurt. "I'm not sure I could get used to calling you something else all the time."

"That's fine." Kurt heard Dave swallow, and he turned to look out the window. "I kind of like it when you call me David. It's like, it helps me remember that you see the parts of me nobody else does."

Kurt felt his own mouth go dry, and he fumbled for something to say that wasn't completely inane. "I think everybody saw those parts, tonight. You were brave."

"It was easier than I expected. Something about nobody knowing me, you know? It's how I thought it would be when I transferred . . ." Dave's voice trailed off, and Kurt didn't push him to continue. He drove another ten miles before Dave spoke again. "I keep wondering what would have happened if I'd stayed at McKinley. At least there, _you_ knew. I was just keeping the same secret again, and look where that got me."

Kurt took his right hand off the steering wheel and rested it on Dave's forearm. It felt warm. "I can only guess at how awful that was, for you. But David?" Dave turned and looked at him. Kurt took a breath and continued. "I'm really glad that you're still here."

"Did you ever, you know. Think about it?" Dave's voice was soft and kind of small.

"Yeah."

"When I was . . . when I was hurting you?"

"No," Kurt said, and he could feel Dave's surprise. "Back in middle school. I've always been the queerest kid in the room, but in seventh grade there was this kid who just wouldn't let up about it. It was the first times I'd heard those words with pure meanness behind them. I mean, there's a difference between taunting and hatred. Not much, but there is a difference. The hatred he had, the things it made me feel . . . it got to be too much."

Dave nodded silently, bowing his head. His hands were knotted in his lap. "It's kind of strange," he said, "to know I pretty much did the same things to you, and at the same time to be so pissed off at that kid for doing it, too."

"I had better coping skills by the time our paths collided." Kurt tried not to sigh. Their past was over and done. Dave had apologized and Kurt had accepted, but he knew from the way Dave talked sometimes that he still held tremendous guilt about it. "Once I actually came out, I knew how much it meant for me to get up and fight every day."

Dave went silent again, his attention focused on the other cars around them on the highway. It took Kurt a few minutes to realize that Dave was crying.

"Hey." Kurt didn't want to make Dave uncomfortable, but he was a little worried. "There's kleenex in the console. Are you okay?"

Dave sniffled. "I didn't fight. I was going to give up. I was so scared and ashamed that I was just going to give up." He rooted around for the kleenex and blew his nose noisily. "I'm still scared and ashamed, most of the time."

"But you did fight, for a long time. You don't have to stop fighting. Maybe you just need somebody to listen, to tell you they understand how hard it is."

"Terrence is kind of lousy at it. He answers my questions with more questions, and it kind of pisses me off."

Kurt sniffed as he switched on his turn signal. "I don't care what you say, Terrence is a _totally_ gay name. And I didn't mean you had to talk to him. I've been told I can be a pretty decent listener, as long as it isn't about sports."

Dave was silent for another moment, and then he nodded, peeking at Kurt out of the corner of his eye. "I... I'd like that."

"Me, too." He cut around the minivan doing 35 in a 65. "Now. We should go have coffee and dessert. I need more chocolate than those Oreos."

"As long as you won't judge me if I order something that _isn't_ coffee. I can't stand that shit."

Kurt suppressed a smile, trying to look outraged. "That's _sacrilege_, David. But I suppose I can overlook your coffee hatred if you share a dessert with me."

* * *

Kurt didn't mean to try to hide Dave's texts from Blaine. He just didn't like the vaguely hurt expression Blaine got when he laughed at one of Dave's jokes or brought up something they'd discussed. It wasn't that he was trying to protect Blaine, exactly. Even though they got to see a lot more of each other now that Blaine was in Lima, he really didn't want to waste it on damage control.

It happened while they were sitting together at the Lima Bean, both of them on one side of the booth, feet propped up on the bench on the other side. Kurt felt his phone buzz, and he fumbled with his left hand to extract his phone from his pocket while hanging on to Blaine with the other.

_I am totally jonesing for a black and white brownie right now,_ Dave had written.

"Who's that?" Blaine asked, his smile looking more like a frown as he watched Kurt's eyes move over the text on the screen.

Kurt used his thumb to peck out a reply. _That's because chocolate always makes therapy better. And I don't think Terrence would approve if you skip to meet me and Blaine._

"David," he said, sending the text and setting his phone on the table next to his elbow. He didn't look at Blaine.

"You know you don't always have to answer your phone when someone texts you." Blaine poked at the coffee glass with his straw wrapper. "Asynchronous communication is asynchronous."

"I told you." Kurt paused to take a sip of his mocha. "I promised Dave that I'd always answer him."

"Yeah, but Dave wouldn't know if you hadn't read his texts. Maybe you were in the bathroom, or watching something good on television. Or making out with your boyfriend. Anything."

"He doesn't have anyone else." Kurt levelled Blaine with a Look, but kept his voice gentle. "I know you know what that feels like."

"See, that's what makes you awesome. How many guys would forgive their former stalker and go with them to PFLAG meetings?" Blaine shook his head, grinning. "Above and beyond as always, Kurt. You know I admire you so much, right?"

Kurt didn't know what to say. He didn't think he was doing anything to warrant Blaine's admiration, and he certainly wasn't going to PFLAG with Dave to make it _look_ like he cared. He actually _did_ care, and the more he got to know Dave, the more he genuinely liked him. It was very easy to be Dave's friend; he just wished sometimes that Blaine could understand that.

When Blaine asked him why he was buying a brownie to take home, he had to stifle his exasperation. "Maybe I just want an extra brownie?"

"Okay," Blaine said, both eyebrows going up. "Sure. You can have as many brownies as you want."

Kurt took a long breath, closing his eyes to try to relax. "No. It's not for me; it's for David. I just - do I have to _explain_ everything?"

"No," Blaine said, but his reassurances were a little too quick to come. "Dave is your friend, I _get_ that. I mean, I don't really _understand_ it, but you don't understand my friendship with Trent either, so. I guess we're even?"

"I don't need it to be a contest, Blaine." He felt stupid for being upset. Blaine was right, of course. He leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Maybe I'll buy you a brownie sometime. When you least expect it."

Blaine grinned at him and took his hand as they made their way to the parking lot. "I would _love_ that."

Kurt intended to drive home, but he found himself winding down the neighborhood street to Dave's dad's house. Paul smiled at Kurt through the screen door.

"He just got back," he said, holding the door open for Kurt. Kurt stepped inside and headed up the stairs to Dave's room. The door was closed, but Kurt could hear music playing. He knocked firmly.

Dave answered the knock after a few seconds; Kurt thought he might have turned the music down. "Dad, I - oh." He stopped, staring at Kurt in surprise. "Hi."

Kurt held up the brown bakery bag. "Brownie?" he said with a grin.

Dave's grin seemed reluctant, but he took the bag, opening it and peering inside. "You really didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. It sounded like maybe you needed it."

Dave motioned for Kurt to step into his room; he shut the door behind them. "Terrence would say you're encouraging me to eat my feelings."

"Screw Terrence." Kurt knew why Dave needed therapy. He also thought, from the things Dave had told him, that Terrence didn't always have an accurate vision of what being a gay teenager in Ohio was like.

"All right," Dave said, laughing. "Thanks. I won't tell him you said that. And next time, I'm buying."

There was a silence that got more awkward as it progressed. Kurt wanted to brush it off, wanted to say _sure, fine, then we'll be even_, but he couldn't find the appropriately light and teasing tone that he needed. It felt like they were walking an invisible and arbitrary line, and Kurt was very suddenly keenly aware that he had no freaking idea what he was doing.

"Well... I'll see you Thursday." He gave Dave a little wave that would later make him cringe when he remembered doing it, feeling like a complete idiot.

Paul called out a casual farewell as he headed for the door, but Kurt didn't stop to chat. His dad still didn't trust Paul Karofsky, or Dave either, for that matter, and Kurt found it easier to avoid bringing one up around the other. That was what he told himself, anyway.

He took the long way home, back past his dad's shop and the Lima Bean again, through the neighborhood where he'd grown up and past the house they'd lived in until his dad and Carole got married. He parked in the empty lot at Independence and stared at the playground.

He wished he knew better how to be Dave's friend. He felt like he was making it all up, because there were no rules for how to be there for the guy who used to shove you into lockers, who'd stolen your first kiss in a cold and empty locker room. Kurt didn't feel like Dave was that guy anymore, but he supposed he _had_ to be, somewhere inside. He imagined that was the thing that scared his dad most about Kurt and Dave's friendship. With Blaine, he wasn't always perfectly happy, but he felt like he had the situation mostly under control.

_But that's not the way it is with David,_ he thought, and shivered.

Sometimes he felt reckless when he was with Dave, when they talked and joked and Kurt got to see the things Dave didn't show anyone else. When _Kurt_ showed those same things to Dave.

The vulnerable feeling hung on long enough that on Thursday he considered asking Michelle and some of the other guys to join them for coffee and dessert afterwards. It might be easier if they could just hang out with other guys. But the closer they got to the end of meeting, the less he wanted to do that. This was his time with David, his _only_ time, and he didn't want to share it with anyone else.

"You okay?" Dave asked as they walked through the parking lot back to the Navigator. "I know a discussion about stereotypes isn't the most scintillating conversation, but I figured you'd have _some_ kind of a snarky comment when one of the guys started up about gay men and theater."

Kurt unlocked the car with his remote and waited until they were both settled into their seats before he said anything. "Do you ever just get tired?"

"Um." Dave shifted in his seat, fumbled for the seatbelt. "Well, _that's_ a really stupid question. That's why we're here, isn't it?"

_Fuck. Right._ "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, do you ever get tired of having to fight your reputation? Do you wish you could just go somewhere else and start over, re-create yourself?"

Dave shrugged, staring out across the dash. "I did that, when I changed schools. It's not really as great as it sounds. Besides all the thinking stuff - trying to figure out where I even _want_ to belong, much less who'd accept me - it's fucking lonely. Not having anybody around who's known me for longer than a couple weeks is harder than I'd expected it to be."

Kurt wanted to say _I'm here, and I do know you,_ but the truth was he really wasn't sure he did. Part of it was that Dave wasn't easy to decipher sometimes, but Kurt knew a good deal of it was his own reluctance to open up to Dave. So he just said, "I'm sorry."

They drove in silence. They didn't stop for coffee that night, and when Kurt got home he hugged his dad hard, kissed Carole on her cheek, and brought Finn a stack of chocolate chip cookies from their secret stash in the back of the pantry. Once he was closed in his room in the dark, he crawled into bed with his clothes still on and cried himself to sleep.

He slept fitfully, finally waking around 2 am from a dream that felt all too real, where Dave's father hadn't found him in time. He shivered and blinked in the dark, and worked for long minutes to calm the frantic pounding of his heart. When he thought he could stand, he got out of bed and padded softly down to the kitchen.

Kurt wasn't there for more than ten minutes before Finn appeared in the doorway in his pajamas, yawning and scratching his head. He watched Kurt preparing the warm milk at the stove for about a minute before saying anything.

"Kinda figured you'd be up tonight, the way you were after your thing tonight."

"Because I brought you cookies?"

"No, because you were grabbing onto everybody like they were those floaties at the wave pool." He pulled a chair out at the table and sat, his long legs stretching out into the center of the kitchen. "You and Blaine have a fight or something?"

"No." Kurt stared at the cinnamon swirling into little flecks as he stirred the milk. "I wasn't with Blaine."

"Mmm." Finn smiled, accepting the mug Kurt poured for him without comment, and took a sip. "Is that group going okay? The P-FIG?"

Kurt turned his back to Finn and set the pan in the sink so that Finn couldn't see him trying to hold back a laugh. "PFLAG," he corrected when he could speak again.

"Right. That." Finn wasn't deterred. "Yeah, I was thinking maybe I should come sometime. You know, to be a friend-and-family."

"That would be wonderful." Kurt took his mug and sat across from Finn at the table.

"Dave's going, isn't he." Finn watched Kurt over the edge of his own mug. "Isn't that kind of weird, having him there?"

"Not weird," Kurt said. "We drive down together. He's a nice guy."

"Uh huh. If he's a nice guy, why were you crying earlier?"

"It wasn't anything he _did_, it was something we talked about. It just made me thankful to have you guys as my family, you know?"

Finn smiled at that. "Yeah. I really do. Our family's a little strange, but I like it that way. Makes me feel proud, that we're not just like everybody else."

"The Hudson-Hummels: paragons of non-traditional family since 2010."

"I have no idea what that means," he said, shoving Kurt's bare foot with his toe, "but sure, yeah. Definitely."

Kurt drained his mug of the last of his milk. "We should go back to bed," he said, chuckling at the way Finn's hair was sticking out all around his head. "You have boy-band hair, by the way."

"Fuck you," Finn mumbled. "Like you're one to talk, brother-mine. Full-on electrical socket right there."

"Good _night_, Finn," Kurt whispered as they reached the hall. He waited until Finn was back in his room before slipping into his own and closing the door softly.

As soon as Kurt climbed back into bed, he reached for his phone, typing out a message to Dave. _Couldn't sleep, scary dreams. Hope you're okay._

The reply came back quickly enough that Kurt could be certain he hadn't been the one to awaken Dave with his text. _I'm trying to get back to sleep, but it's not working so well._

_Are we okay?_ Kurt sent back.

This time the pause was longer. Kurt huddled under the covers, cupping the phone close to his face.

_Of course we're okay,_ Dave wrote. _We're always going to be okay._

Kurt sighed with relief. _Okay. Thank you. Go to sleep, David._

It wasn't until morning, when Kurt woke to find his phone smashed beneath him between his cheek and the bed, that he realized Dave had replied before signing off: _I think I can, now._

* * *

"Hey," Michelle stopped them as everyone was stacking their chairs after the meeting. "A bunch of us are going out to eat, once we're cleaned up. You guys wanna come?"

Kurt glanced at his watch; the meeting had run late, and he had a math test the next morning. "I need to get home," he said in apology. "Stupid math."

Michelle nodded. "How about you, DJ?"

"Kurt's my ride," Dave shrugged, taking his chair _and_ Kurt's and hauling them up onto the stack in the corner. "Maybe next time?"

"I can give you a ride, if you want. Lima's not _so _far from Sidney," Michelle offered.

Dave paused for a few seconds and Kurt watched him weighing his options. "Not tonight," he said finally. "My dad's gotten a little weird, if I'm not where I am when I say I'm going to be there."

"Okay," Michelle said. "Well. I think next week we're gonna try that new pizza place up the street, so bring your appetites." He jogged away to catch up to the crowd of boys working their way out onto the street.

Kurt just stared at Dave. "Your father? Really? You couldn't come up with a better excuse than that?"

"I just didn't want you to have to drive home alone."

"Uh huh. C'mon. I really do have a test tomorrow, and I'm nowhere _near_ as good at math as you are."

Dave rubbed his arms. "I guess I'd feel weird going out without you. This whole thing - I never would have come if you hadn't come with me. I'd just be sitting at home blaming myself for not being brave enough, but there's no way I'd do it."

"If you want to go, you should. Don't turn the other guys down because of me." Kurt put on a good, _not jealous_ attitude, but he was oddly bothered by the idea of Dave interrupting their post-meeting ritual to go out with other people. _ It's good for Dave to have other friends,_ Kurt thought to himself in the silence. _He needs to be able to find his own community, because I won't be able to help him next year._ "Maybe you should drive yourself next week. So you could do that, if you wanted."

Dave looked a little panicked, so Kurt put a hand out and patted his arm.

"They're just _boys_, David. You're a boy. Everything will be fine."

"I'm pretty sure the last time I had to hang out with other boys, it wasn't like this," he protested.

"Why, because there wasn't a chance one of them would want to hook up with you?" Kurt couldn't help it; sometimes, it was really fun to tease Dave.

"God," he muttered, turning pink. "_No._ Because - you don't get it, do you? What it feels like to be sure you don't deserve something like this? I walk into that room every week and I'm absolutely fucking certain I should just turn around and go home."

"You deserve to be happy," Kurt said, softly. "It's okay to find your own community, make your own friends. It's okay to just be yourself, David."

Dave smiled bitterly at him from the passenger seat. "I'm pretty sure nobody would want to hang out with me, if they really knew who I was. Except you."

"You're smart and funny, and underneath your slightly gruff exterior you're a giant teddy bear. I _like_ hanging out with you, even if you refuse to drink coffee." He reached out and grabbed Dave's hand, startling him, and gave it a firm squeeze. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Now, are we going to get dessert, or are you going to make me go home and study?"

* * *

Dave didn't drive himself to PFLAG every week after that, but usually two weeks a month he would text Kurt in the afternoon to tell him he was going to go on his own. Kurt didn't skip those weeks, but he thought about it. It was unexpectedly hard, watching "DJ" find the kind of community at PFLAG that Kurt had always longed for himself.

The closer they got to graduation, the more Kurt distanced himself from Dave's social circle. It would be easier to make the break earlier, Kurt thought, rather than in August when they'd both be heading off to college.

Dave seemed oddly reticent to talk about college plans. Kurt knew it wasn't because of his grades; Dave had successfully camouflaged himself as a dumb jock at McKinley, but that didn't mean he wasn't getting A's behind everybody's back. At Heritage he'd made an effort, and Kurt heard him talk about how it was easier not having to be the tough guy.

"It still sucks a lot of the time," Dave told him one evening, sprawled on Kurt's bed with Kurt's indecipherable calculus book, but he didn't actually seem too upset about it.

"Just think," Kurt said, choosing his words carefully. "Next year you'll be in college. It'll be even better then. Now, would you please try to explain derivatives to me again?"

Thursday afternoon, the first week of April, Kurt got home to find a large, fat envelope from NYADA propped against the fruit bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. His heart thudded triple-time. Big and fat was good.

Big and fat was _very_ good.

He sat staring at the envelope for what felt like seconds, but had to have been a really long time, because his dad was banging around in the garage and when Kurt lifted his eyes from the table the sun was slanting in through the kitchen window the way it did every day after 5. "Shit," he mumbled, and tugged his phone out of his pocket.

_Not going tonight_, he sent to Dave. _Sorry. Family stuff._

_Everything ok? _

_y_. _I'll tell you about it later._ It felt a little weird, not telling Dave, but he needed to tell his family and Blaine first.

But he really _wanted_ to tell Dave. They didn't talk much when they were together, but being with him all spring at PFLAG, he'd heard Dave talk more about his own life than he'd ever thought he would hear - and he'd shared nearly as much about his life, too. Sometimes Kurt felt that, despite a lot of the silence that hung between the two of them, Dave knew him even better than Blaine did.

He shot off a quick text to Blaine in the seconds before his dad burst through the door: _NYADA!_

Blaine sent back an entire line of smiley faces and then _I'm totally coming over after you celebrate with your family, and I'll bring congratulatory ice cream._

Kurt grinned.

"You're happy," his dad said as he stepped out of his work boots.

Kurt waved his envelope back and forth. "I got my letter today."

His dad spun around with his arms in the air and then grabbed Kurt into a giant bear hug. "Whooo! That's my boy. I _knew_ you were gonna get in. Does Blaine know?"

"Yeah. He's coming over later."

His father fixed him with a stare. "Does Dave know? Isn't tonight your PFLAG night?"

"I let him know I wasn't going to be there. We'll talk about it later, it'll be fine."

Kurt wasn't sure if he was trying to convince his dad or himself, because he honestly didn't know if he and Dave _would_ be okay. Things had never been easy between them, but lately things were tense and strange in a way that felt even worse than when they actively hated each other. He'd been so excited to get the NYADA letter, but now he had no idea how he could express that to him without confronting some of the other things that seemed to be getting in their way.

"Okay," his dad clapped his shoulder. "I'll go shower. I'm guessing we're going out to celebrate?"

"Yeah. Blaine's going to come for ice cream later, once we're home."

His dad smiled at him and headed off down the hall. Kurt just sat at the table and stared at his envelope some more.

After dinner at their favorite Chinese place, Kurt and Blaine sat curled together on the couch passing a pint of Phish Food between them while Finn sat on the floor in front of them working on his own pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie.

"You sure you don't want to pick the movie?" Blaine asked Finn, nudging Finn's shoulder with his socked foot. Finn gave him a baleful glare.

"You're only offering because I got rejected from Pace. I'm so _sick_ of everyone feeling sorry for me. Puck even offered me a consolation six pack, but I just want to be alone with my ice cream and my shattered dreams."

"And everyone says _I'm_ a drama queen," Kurt teased. "There are plenty of drama programs everywhere. There's no law that says you can't transfer in a year." He peered over Finn's shoulder and frowned even though Finn couldn't see him. "Are you really going to eat _all_ of that?"

"Hey! No judging at movie night. Isn't that, like, the first rule of movie night?" Finn set his ice cream on the floor in front of him.

"Fine. Since you aren't picking the movie, I guess I will this week." He chose _The Goodbye Girl, _which his dad always told him was one of his mom's favorites, which predisposed him to love it in the first place. But, really, it was funny and sweet and romantic, and Kurt should have been happy with that. The fact that he wasn't was a little unnerving.

"Hey," Blaine said softly as the credits rolled. "You okay?" He toyed a little with the hair at the nape of Kurt's neck. Kurt shivered at Blaine's touch.

"Yeah," he replied, because what was he supposed to say? _Everything feels different and I don't know why_? _Why am I so worried about disappointing someone I still barely know?_

"C'mere." Blaine tugged at Kurt's hand until Kurt was stretched out almost on top of him. "I never got to give you your congratulations kiss." He lifted his head up and touched his lips to Kurt's with a loud smack.

Kurt shook his head. "That was the worst congratulations kiss ever. Maybe we need to try again?"

Blaine just grinned up at him, a little silly and a little lazy, but he wasn't lazy once they were kissing, completely oblivious to Finn, who had fallen asleep on the floor half an hour into the movie. Kurt wanted so badly to lose himself in the pressure of Blaine's mouth, the movement of his hands over Kurt's skin, tugging at the hem of his shirt, tangled in his hair. He wanted to, but he just couldn't let go.

Blaine gave their attempted making out a few more moments before sighing and leaning back on his elbow, regarding him thoughtfully. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who's really happy about getting into the school of your dreams."

"It's not about NYADA," Kurt blurted out before he could stop himself. "I mean, it is, but it's not?"

"I need more than that," Blaine pushed. "I love you, but I can't read your mind."

Kurt sighed, more out of frustration than anguish. "_I_ can't even read my mind tonight. I have no idea what's bothering me."

"Okay." He kissed him again, more softly this time. "Can I ask you for something, then?"

"Yes?"

"When you do figure it out... tell me about it?" He smoothed Kurt's hair back from around his ears, where it was already getting a little too long. "I don't need you to be certain about everything, but I'd rather not sit in the dark by myself."

The image was a little too evocative, and after Blaine left, Kurt turned on all the lights in his room, along with some Linkin Park, before attempting to poke at the infuriating calculus homework. He was angrily erasing half his problem set, and thinking about getting a fresh piece of paper, when his phone started buzzing.

_*pebbles hitting your window*_

Kurt smiled quizzically. The text came again, repeated, and then he got it, standing to walk to the window and looking out. Dave was there, on the sidewalk, with his phone in his hands, looking somewhat sheepish. Kurt pushed up the window, leaning against the screen.

"Yeah, I know, I'm a dork," Dave called. "I didn't want to interrupt your family thing."

"Everyone's asleep now. Well. Except for me, clearly, but this damn math . . ."

He shrugged, rubbing his neck. "I can give you a hand with that."

Kurt let him in through the side door. Finn was still asleep on the floor in the family room next to the half-eaten bowl of popcorn.

"He okay?" Dave nodded at Finn's snoring figure.

"Yeah. He crashed out during the movie, and it's a pretty bad idea to wake him up once he's out. He gets a little bear-like."

Kurt could barely see Dave's smirk in the almost-darkness. "Don't tease the animals?"

Kurt snorted. "Something like that."

They tiptoed up the stairs, past his dad and Carole's room, and shut the door to Kurt's. He realized, too late, that the NYADA letter was strewn all over the bed. Dave sat down slowly, picking up the papers. His smile was excited. "Kurt? Did you...?"

"Yeah." Kurt pinched the skin on his forearm absently, just to remind himself that he _was_ actually living the fact that he'd gotten in. "Yeah. I got the letter today... that's why I wasn't at group tonight. I kind of can't believe it."

Dave clutched the piece of paper hard enough to wrinkle it. "That's - congratulations! I mean, wow. You've been so worried, and..." He seemed to realize what he was doing, and set the paper down on the bed. His hands clutched at his own knees, as though he didn't know what to do with them. "I'm just... I'm really happy for you."

There was something off in Dave's voice, and Kurt watched his hands working, clenching and unfurling. He could almost _feel_ the wired energy coursing through Dave's body. Kurt sat carefully on the edge of his bed, close enough to touch but far enough away to be distant. He put one hand on Dave's. "David."

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." But Dave's voice betrayed him, hoarse and broken.

"Liar. I thought Terrence was on you about honesty."

"Kurt." He looked at him reproachfully, almost desperately. "Just drop it, okay?"

"If nothing's wrong, there's nothing to drop." Kurt knew he was being a little mean, poking at Dave like that, but he thought he knew by now how far he could push him.

Dave sighed, knotting his fingers together. "Okay. Would you accept that there's something, and I'd rather not talk about it right now? We can do your calculus, and I'll tell you about Michelle's latest crisis, and - I don't know, you can play me some of those obnoxious showtunes."

Kurt nodded, gathering up the pieces of the NYADA letter. "Fine. Just . . . you know you can always talk to me, right?"

"Yeah." Dave reached out and turned Kurt's book around. "Now. Tell me what you don't understand."

Kurt flopped back on the bed and groaned in frustration. "I don't understand any of it. It's like Japanese or that language Sam speaks, from that movie."

Dave smirked as he settled against the wall, stretching out his legs. "Sam used to speak _na'vi_ at football practice sometimes. I always wondered how many other guys in that locker room were listening and could understand."

"You really think there's a closet geek population on the football team?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it. Puckerman's the video game expert, but he also knows way more than he lets on about anime. And Matt used to quote Star Wars before it was cool again."

"Then there's you. You had the best GPA on the team, didn't you?"

"That's nerdiness," he corrected. "Nerdiness isn't necessarily the same as geekiness. And that was never a secret. Like, I would never have joined Academic Decathalon or anything, but all the guys knew they could come to me if they needed help with their chemistry or math. I'm pretty sure I wrote half their English term papers."

Kurt watched as Dave worked the problem set like he wasn't even thinking about it. "I think Mr. Vernon will notice if I suddenly become a calculus star, especially since I'm barely pulling a C."

"Trust me, that's covered." Dave tipped the notebook over to Kurt. "Here. Write the word 'derivative' here."

Kurt did. Dave took the notebook back and proceeded to copy the word exactly. Kurt couldn't even tell which one he'd written and which one Dave had copied. He stared at the problem set.

"You - you did the work in my handwriting?"

"And I made sure to get a reasonable percentage of them wrong." He grinned at Kurt's discomfiture. He kicked off his shoes, crossing his legs underneath him on the bedspread. "C'mere, let me show you what I did. You're totally smart enough to get this."

"Give me a minute. I have to turn off the lights and lock the front door."

Kurt left Dave on the bed while he hurried downstairs. He locked up quickly, but took an extra minute in the kitchen, quietly gathering two glasses of water and the secret bag of Oreos he kept in the back of the pantry. He had this weird ball of uncertainty in his stomach. He liked to think he'd gotten pretty good at reading Dave, but he honestly had no idea what was even happening right now. It felt important, though, like something he should pay extra attention to.

"I brought snacks," he said, holding up the Oreos once he'd nudged his door closed.

Dave was leafing through his calculus textbook. He accepted the glass of water Kurt handed him, absently sipping it and setting it on the floor next to the bed. "Mr. Vernon won't cover this part," he said, pointing at the second-to-last chapter, "not with only six weeks left of school, but this last chapter will definitely be on the AP exam. I think if you're going to bother trying to understand any of it, this is the stuff that would get you the most points."

"I'll take my tutor's word for it." He held the Oreo bag in his lap as he sat at the foot of the bed, watching Dave spread out the work with methodical organization. "David... it's getting late."

"Oh." Dave looked up quickly, saw the clock, and glanced back at Kurt guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"No, no - I mean, I didn't want you to get in trouble for being here too late. You're helping me, I promise." He put a hand on Dave's leg before he could attempt to get up. "You can stay, if you want. I mean, if your dad won't freak out about you not coming home."

Dave frowned a little. "I dunno. Are you sure _your_ dad won't freak out, if I stay?"

"He might." There was really no _might_ about it, he would _definitely_ freak, but in that moment Kurt didn't really care. "I missed seeing you tonight," he offered, like it was some kind of explanation. "Please stay?"

Slowly, Dave leaned back against the wall, watching Kurt intently. "Okay. I mean... yeah, sure. If it's helping." His gaze flickered around Kurt's room with mild dismay. Kurt could see, through his eyes, the hard wood floors, the dearth of any other comfortable surfaces besides Kurt's double bed. "I, um. Do you want to take a look at this problem or not?"

"I'm not going to bite, David."

Dave scowled at the notebook in his lap, his cheeks pink. "I'm just thinking about your reputation. Don't you think Finn would fucking kill me? And Blaine... I don't know, Kurt. Maybe I should go home."

"Are you ashamed of being my friend? Because I'm not ashamed of being _your_ friend. Or maybe you're scared of what people will think? You're already out, there's no risk for you being seen with me."

"What the -" He glared at Kurt in outrage. "Are you kidding? This isn't about you or me. You know people; they're going to assume, two gay guys in one room, overnight, that things are happening. No matter what we say."

"Then let them. We graduate in less than a month. It doesn't matter. Unless . . ." Kurt paused, tilted his head and regarded Dave, who was huddled up on himself. "David. Do you trust me?"

Dave uncurled a little bit. He rested his head back against the wall, eyes closed tightly. "Y-yes," he said, breathing fast and ragged. "I trust _you. _I just don't trust _me_."

Kurt was transfixed by Dave's flushed face, but he refused to give in to it. He tossed his head and rolled his eyes, as theatrically as he could manage. "I think I can handle it. Come on, you were going to fill my brain with an appreciation of calculus."

"You're really sure?" Dave asked cautiously. "It's okay if I stay?"

"I'm _sure_," Kurt reassured him again. "Now please. Tell me what I need to do to salvage my GPA, here."

Dave talked him through the rest of the problems on the page, and even made him work some of the even-numbered ones, even though they weren't part of his homework. Once he seemed satisfied with Kurt's progress, he let Kurt close the notebook as they stretched out and started talking about the week's news - _gossip, David_, Kurt teased lightly - from PFLAG.

"You know I'm not supposed to talk about specifics," he cautioned, "because of the confidentiality rule."

Kurt snorted. "Like I couldn't figure out who you're talking about. Go on, try me."

"Everyone is worked up about prom."

"By everyone you mean Gabe and Matt, because their school doesn't allow same-sex dates - at least not _boys -_ so Matt has to take his sister instead of getting to go with Gabe. Did Gabe decide on his date?"

Dave chuckled a little. "Michelle offered, since technically he's a she, but one of his debate friends from Findlay is going with him."

"I'm really glad I get to go with Blaine. Are you going to go to your prom?"

Dave shrugged. "Maybe. I asked Santana, and she said she'd be my beard again, if I wanted. It just seems silly, going to prom at a school where I hardly know anyone."

"Do you think you'd regret it, if you don't go?"

"Probably not. It doesn't seem so important anymore." He glanced at Kurt. "You?"

"I don't know." Kurt closed his eyes. "It's better, than it was last year, but I still worry a little, you know? I mean, I can't imagine Figgins would allow another fiasco, but . . ." he trailed off.

"Figgins is a clueless _ass_," Dave growled. "He really should have expelled me for what I did to you."

Dave's anger was sudden, and Kurt tried not to show how much it shook him. He smiled and gave Dave a careless shrug. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on all of that? I told you a long time ago I forgive you."

"It's not even _about_ you, anymore. I just..." Dave picked at a loose thread on Kurt's comforter, eyes down and voice a little gentled. "I feel like, if anyone had _really_ been paying attention, maybe I could have gotten actual help last year, instead of basically being left alone. Maybe . . . maybe I wouldn't have tried, if someone had cared enough to just _look_ at me."

It was almost too much for Kurt to handle. He rubbed his own arms, trying to take the sting out of the words. He knew Dave didn't mean them to hurt, but the words Dave was saying were a little too close to the ones he often heard in his own head, the familiar message of self-recrimination. "I'm so sorry, David," was all he could manage.

"None of this is your fault, Kurt. I'm just . . ." Dave leaned his head back against the wall with a thunk. "I've got problems, okay?"

"We all have problems." Kurt watched him, his anxiety mounting, until at last he reached out and grasped Dave's hand. It made him startle, and he stared back at Kurt, eyes wide. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If it got so bad again that you felt like... I mean, I hope you wouldn't..."

"Terrence says that what I did was reactionary. I'm out now, so apparently that shouldn't happen again? I dunno. He's the shrink, but I guess it makes sense. They took away my control, but I have that back, now. I honestly don't think I'll ever get there again, but then, I never thought I'd get there in the first place, so. If I promise you'll be my first call, will that be enough?"

Kurt nodded. When he realized he was biting his bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark, he made an effort to stop. "I appreciate it. Really. I know it doesn't have anything to do with me, that what you were going through was so much more awful than what I was feeling, but..." He looked Dave in the face. "It was horrible. Right up there with the day my dad had his heart attack. I - I don't care much for hospitals, but this was -" He had to swallow before going on. "I felt so powerless. I had no idea what was going on."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. God, my dad and I have hashed this out over and over and over again, but I never told you. It was like everything was just dark, and I felt so numb, and I couldn't - I couldn't even _see_ anything, any kind of way for things to get better. I didn't know what else to do."

He nodded again. "When I was... when things were bad, for me... I'm pretty sure I never got to that point, but there were a lot of moments along the way when I thought... well, you know how they say, if you have a plan, that's when you should start to worry? I had one of those. I think I had four or five, actually."

Dave looked down, focusing on their joined hands, and Kurt hastily let them go, resting his palms on his knees. He could feel a mild tingling, all up and down his arms. This wasn't going the way he'd expected.

"I'm just glad you're still here," he ended weakly.

"Me, too," Dave said, his voice soft.

Kurt focused on the opposite wall - anything to take away some of the tension in his body. It was impossible to imagine spending the entire night in a room with Dave when he felt like _this,_ but neither could he conceive of a way to take back the invitation. "I - think we should get ready for bed, if we're going to be at all functional tomorrow morning."

"Okay." He pushed himself off the bed. "Please tell me you have an extra toothbrush I can borrow."

Kurt nodded, and slipped into the bathroom, rooting around under the sink for all the freebies they collected from the dentist's office. He pulled out a plain blue one and took it back into his room for Dave. "For some reason, there's a sparkly Disney Princess one in my drawer, but I _swear_ I didn't pick it out."

Dave snorted, taking the toothbrush, and the unexpected lightness of his tone made Kurt laugh.

"You sure you're not hiding a little sister around here somewhere?" Dave teased.

"Shut your mouth. Don't even _mention_ something like that. I don't want my dad and Carole to get any ideas." He propped himself on the doorway, not exactly watching Dave brush his teeth, but staying close enough that they could continue talking over the susurration of the water.

"My mom's got two girls," said Dave, after he was done, "but I never see them. I'm not sure if it's because my mom hates my dad so much, or because her husband's a homophobic asshole. Probably some of both."

"I's thorry," Kurt mumbled around his toothbrush, being careful not to spit toothpaste bubbles at Dave, who smothered a grin.

"It's okay. I barely knew my mom before they got divorced. She's more like an obnoxious aunt I have to send thank-you cards to at birthdays."

Kurt spit out his toothpaste and rinsed before standing back up and looking at Dave. "How old were you?"

"Six. She left the summer between kindergarten and first grade."

Kurt wasn't sure how to ask about pajamas, but Dave made it easy by already being in bed by the time he came out of the bathroom. He shifted uneasily as Kurt approached the bed, touching his pillow. "I... guessed which side you sleep on, based on where you usually sit."

Kurt slid carefully into bed next to Dave. "I usually sprawl, actually, but I'll do my best to keep from kicking you." He pulled the blankets up over his chest and very consciously hugged the edge of his side of the bed. "Good night, David," he said softly and turned off his bedside light.

"Good night, Kurt."

He fell asleep next to Dave, and he woke up in the morning, still next to Dave.

A few times over the past year, Kurt had fallen asleep next to Finn while they were talking, on the couch or on his bed. But waking up beside a sleeping Finn was a completely different experience than waking up with Dave. It wasn't like the times Kurt had fallen asleep in Blaine's arms, either. Blaine was completely guileless in sleep, like an angel. Finn tended to wake himself up snoring. But Dave...

Kurt found himself studying Dave's face, watching the way his forehead furrowed. Even now, when a person was supposed to be the most relaxed, Kurt could tell Dave was still carrying a ton of himself around, hidden away where no one could see it.

_I wonder what that Dave looks like,_ he thought, leaning in a little closer. _I wonder what it would take to get him to come out._

It wasn't until Dave opened his eyes that Kurt admitted to himself what he was doing.

"Kurt," Dave whispered. Kurt felt the puff of air on his lips from the _K. _

"David," he whispered back, "just - let me -"

"No." Dave didn't move, but his word stopped Kurt where he was, hovering over Dave's face. His voice was hoarse. "You can't."

"Please." He felt, as much as heard, Dave draw in a breath, as he shifted closer, leaning in against the warmth of Dave's side. "That kiss... it's in our way. I don't want - I _can't let_ that be our only kiss."

"It won't be, Kurt, I promise. But this... it's the wrong place, the wrong time."

Kurt hesitated for several tense heartbeats, wishing he could see all the ramifications of a moment in which he ignored Dave and kissed him anyway. But _not paying attention_ was what had gotten them into this place to begin with, and more of the same wasn't going to get them out. He backed off, regretfully watching Dave's face settle into its familiar guarded state as he sat up. Kurt sat up with him.

"How will we know?" Kurt asked.

"Know?"

"If it's the right place and the right time."

"I don't know." Dave looked so conflicted. Kurt could already feel the lingering guilt of what he'd almost done. "I think I'd better go."

"I'm sorry," said Kurt. Dave shook his head.

"No - no, Kurt, this was... it was really good. I just need a little time to think it all through. Thanks for letting me help you with the math. I hope you pass your AP exam."

He watched, with mild panic, as Dave ran a hand through his hair and pulled on his jeans. "But I'll see you next week, for group, right?"

"Sure. We'll talk about it." He shot Kurt a little smile. "Well... have a good day."

"Dave," Kurt called after him, but he was already gone.

* * *

Kurt told Blaine about the almost-kiss over coffee the next day. He was a little nervous about bringing it up, but they'd had conversations about extra-relationship kissing before. Blaine had never really thought it was a big deal, but he could understand why Kurt thought it was.

He picked at the cardboard sleeve around his cup. "So," he began, butterflies doing a rhumba in his stomach. "Dave came over, the other night. He helped me with my calculus, and we talked about a bunch of stuff."

"Was he upset that you missed PFLAG this week?"

"No. He understood. I was the one who missed seeing _him_." Kurt wanted to take the words back, but he couldn't. He watched Blaine's face go completely impassive.

"I don't pretend to understand what's going on with you guys," Blaine said. He twisted the napkin in his hands. "Did you-" Blaine paused for a moment, and Kurt could almost feel him struggling to form words in his head. "Did you miss him like a friend, or like you would miss me?"

Kurt sighed impatiently. "How I missed him isn't the important part. The important part is that I almost kissed him."

"Oh." Blaine dropped his napkin onto the table. "Almost?"

"He told me it wasn't the right time or the right place."

He frowned. "But you thought it _was?"_

"I don't _know_," Kurt almost-whined. "He stayed the night because it was so late, and when I woke up I just _watched_ him, and he was so tense, I wondered if anyone at all ever got to see him, just him. I don't know that I _was_ thinking, honestly."

"He - stayed the night?" Blaine echoed.

"Yeah." Kurt didn't elaborate. He felt oddly protective of Dave, and didn't want Blaine involved in Dave's business too much.

Blaine chewed the edge of his lip, still frowning. He didn't seem upset, more like he was concentrating hard and didn't want to be interrupted. Kurt tried to stay quiet while Blaine thought.

"And nothing else happened?"

"No. He left. I haven't talked to him since then." Kurt was pretty sure he'd screwed things up for good with Dave, but he wasn't about to push him to deal with it before he was ready.

"Okay." Blaine took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and touched Kurt's hand. "Thank you for telling me."

There were lots of times Kurt wished he could read Blaine's mind, but never as much as he wished it in that moment. "You're not angry."

"No," Blaine said thoughtfully. "I'm not exactly sure what I am, but I know I'm not angry." He hooked his fingertips under Kurt's, giving them a brisk tug. "We should figure out details for prom. It's coming up more quickly than I expected."

"Are you sure you want to go, after what happened last year?"

Blaine tipped his head and stared at Kurt with a fond expression on his face. "Shouldn't _I_ be asking _you_ that? It's your senior prom, after all. I still get another chance at getting it right next year."

Kurt sighed. "I think I've given up getting it right. I should remember this is just high school, and that I'm never going to be able to count on this school or this town being supportive of me or my relationship." He gave Blaine a half-smile. "But I still really want to go to my senior prom."

"Okay." Blaine nodded with determination. "Then we should go and have an amazing time. What do you have planned to wear? I mean, your kilt last year was a thing of beauty, but you should try to outdo yourself."

They passed the rest of the afternoon talking about tuxes and whether they should coordinate their accessories not. By the time Kurt got home, he was feeling a lot less anxious.

At least, he felt that way until he crawled into bed. It was faint, but it was still there, the smell of Dave's aftershave on Kurt's pillows.

* * *

Kurt knew something was up when Finn suggested they go pick out corsages together. "Or, you know, whatever you call them for guys," he clarified. "Those things you wear in your buttonholes. You know."

"Boutonnieres, Finn," Kurt sighed. "Blaine and I are both wearing slim-fitting tuxes, so we agreed on small flowers."

"Yeah, great. Just... I need help with mine?" Finn gave him a pleading look. "Rachel's going to know I didn't do it on my own, but I'd rather get it right, at least."

"It'll be fine," Kurt said, patting Finn on his forearm. "I know just what to get for Rachel. Apparently the girls liked having a fairy gayfather go dress shopping with them last year, so I let them bribe me to do it again."

Finn shuddered as he opened the passenger door to the Navigator and climbed in. "I really hope you got the better end of that deal, bro. Because you couldn't pay me enough to go shopping with all of them."

Kurt figured if he waited long enough, Finn would eventually tell him everything about what was really going on, but Finn was oddly quiet on the drive over to Kurt's favorite florist.

"Do you ever feel like maybe the choices you're making are too easy?" Finn said at last.

"I'm not sure what you mean. Like, being with Blaine, or going to college, or what? I guess sometimes it's easy to just go along with choices because that's what we're expected to do."

"Yeah, I guess that's what I mean. If I do the easy thing, and I'm good at it, and it all works, I can feel good about that, but..." He shrugged, staring at his hands. "Kind of doesn't mean much, in the end, if I didn't have to work very hard at it."

"I think it's more important that you're happy, not how you get your happiness. If the easy choices honestly get you there, then what does it matter?"

"Because all the things I never fought for are still out there, waiting for me." Finn's lips tightened into an expression far too bitter for prom night. "I feel like I let them down."

"We're only eighteen, Finn. It's not too late to make different choices."

Finn let his head fall back against the headrest of his seat. "If there was a possibility that you could have what you have with Blaine with someone else, someone who matters to you in a different way than Blaine does, would you take it?"

Kurt blinked at Finn and tried to tie all the threads of his questions together. "Are you asking whether I would cheat on Blaine? Or leave him for someone else?"

"No, no. Not like that. Just." Finn blew a breath hard into the air. "Do you think Blaine's _the one_ for you?"

Kurt thought about all the ways he and Blaine complimented each other, all the ways they were supposed to fit together, and did. And he thought about Dave, all the ways they got along that were so different from what Kurt shared with anyone else. "I love Blaine," he said finally, even though it didn't even come close to answering Finn's question.

"Jeez, Kurt, I'm not a complete idiot, I know you love Blaine. But how can you be so sure that you guys are meant to be together? What if there was someone else you loved?"

"There is." _Shit_. His hands flexed, gripping the steering wheel. _No. No. _"No, no there isn't. That was - um. A mistake. I made a mistake, I don't love him. I _can't_ love him."

"Dude. Chill." Finn regarded him with concern. "Whatever's going on, you don't have to do anything about it. You're going to be out of here in five weeks. I'm the one who's gonna be stuck here, dealing with - everything."

Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt and started to open his door. "Nothing says you have to stay in Lima. And what does _everything_ even mean?"

"You know. You and Rachel, you're starting fresh, making new plans, a new life. What's going to be left for me here?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, man, this isn't what this night was supposed to be about. You're the one making all the big announcements. So who's this guy? Do I know him?"

Kurt knew a deflection when he heard one, and he made the reluctant decision to play along with Finn. Maybe if he shared his own secret, then Finn would feel like talking on the way home. "You could say that you know him. It's, um. Dave."

Finn stopped where he was in the parking lot and watched Kurt walk right by him. He did eventually catch back up, though, with a couple long strides. "_Dave?_ As in throw-you-into-the-locker, hate-kiss you Dave?"

"Shhhh," Kurt shushed him with a furtive glance around to make sure nobody could overhear them. "_Yes_, okay? Yes. _Dave_. I don't even think I can explain it, so don't ask me to. Just - _please_ don't tell anyone, especially not _him_. It's . . . it's nothing, it can't be anything. I just need to forget that I said anything at all, okay?"

"Sure. Of course. I won't tell anybody." He tugged a little on Kurt's elbow, enough to get him to stop and face him. "But you still love Blaine, right? I mean, you're not leading him on or anything?"

Kurt arranged his fingers into a half-forgotten Boy Scout salute. "On my honor, I promise that I'm not leading Blaine Anderson on; that I love him, and that I will dance with him at Senior Prom."

Finn broke into uncharacteristic giggles halfway into Kurt's ad-libbed promise. "Asshole," he gasped, finally, knocking Kurt with his shoulder. "And there's no way you were ever a Boy Scout."

"How wrong you are, brother mine. Three years. I have a sash full of badges to prove it. I was actually a very _good_ Scout, until I got a little too gay. Now c'mon, let's go take care of these flowers or Rachel will have _both_ our heads."

Kurt had assumed Finn was up to something, but he didn't really think much more about it until they were paying for the boutonnieres and the man at the counter smiled at him. "Have a good prom with Blaine, Kurt," he said softly. "I wish I'd had a boyfriend like that in high school."

"Um - thank you?" Kurt glanced quizzically at Finn, who was being completely unconvincingly oblivious. "How did he know I was going to prom with Blaine? I didn't think he even knew who I was."

"Whatever." Finn shuffled his feet, appearing a little desperate. "Can we go home now? I have no idea what to do with this flower thing."

"_Boutonniere."_

"Booty-whatever. And I still can't tie my own tie. You have to _help_ me."

After the fiasco of last year, Kurt had decided to go with a classic tux with tails, but he couldn't help adding his own personal touch. The lining of the jacket, which matched the tie, was subtly spangled with material that fluoresced under black light. At first Kurt thought it might be _too_ subtle, but when he saw himself in the mirror, he decided he was pleased with the result.

Blaine was waiting in the living room, hovering by the fireplace, when Kurt came down the stairs.

"Finn already left to pick Rachel up," Blaine said, shifting from foot to foot and wiping his palms on the legs of his tux.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, eyeing Blaine carefully. "This isn't going to be like last year. You don't have to worry about that."

Blaine shook his head. "I'm not- it's not-" he blew out a frustrated puff of air. "I'm not worried about that." He breathed deeply in and out and then held out his hand. "You look _amazing_, Kurt. Our chariot awaits."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Your Subaru or my Nav?"

Blaine clucked his tongue. "Neither. C'mon, we're going to be late to pick up Rachel and Finn, and I really don't want the wrath of Rachel ruining our prom night."

Kurt followed Blaine to the door, but stopped abruptly when he saw the sleek black limo idling at the curb.

"You didn't," he said softly. "Blaine. You didn't have to-"

"I know I didn't _have_ to, I _wanted_ to." He hugged him, then kissed him gently before nudging him toward the car. "I want this to be the prom of your dreams, Kurt. The prom you _deserve_."

* * *

Blaine wasn't kidding. Kurt stared at the gymnasium, transformed by crepe paper and balloons into something close to festive. Everywhere he looked, he saw touching little nods to LBG inclusiveness, some subtle and some not-so. Tina and Mike met him by the punch bowl, toting a basket of perky rainbow badges proclaiming _Gay is Okay!_

"You really want me to put a hole in this fabric?" Kurt asked, smoothing a hand over his lapel, but he smiled and took one anyway. "This is so sweet. Who came up with this?"

"Who do you think?" Mike tipped his head to where Blaine was talking animatedly with Artie.

Kurt tapped his lips with one finger. "Huh. I never would have guessed it of Artie."

"Kurt," Mike said, laughing, but Kurt grinned at him, then made a beeline for Blaine.

He pressed the rainbow badge to Blaine's tuxedo jacket. "Just what is the meaning of this?" he snapped, watching Blaine's smile falter.

"I thought you'd - after what happened last year - I was just trying to do something nice, Kurt."

"Well... you did." He seized Blaine's shoulders with both hands and gave him an enormous kiss that lasted long enough for Artie to let out an approving wolf-whistle. Blaine blinked when Kurt let him go, a little flushed, but smiling again. "Thank you. And you're completely sneaky and I had no idea."

"I had a lot of help," Blaine admitted. "Sam's the one who thought of the same-sex-only dances - that'll be later. Some of the single guys came together, although I think most of them are only doing it because Sam made them. And Dave brought the kids from your P-FLAG group who couldn't take same-sex dates to their own proms."

"Dave?" Kurt echoed. He glanced around the room, finally settling his gaze on Dave, tucked into a corner sipping at punch and looking like he'd rather be someplace else. He shook his head, his smile widening. "I'll just reiterate that you're amazing."

The rest of prom went smoothly. Kurt wasn't at all surprised when Finn and Rachel were elected King and Queen. He was thankful he didn't have to crown Finn; he didn't even have to reach up on tiptoe to put Rachel's crown on her head. They looked perfectly content to be standing together, smiling broadly for the crowd. Kurt was almost convinced Finn was happy with the way things were going, but then he thought about Finn's earlier anxiety, and he wondered.

The lights dimmed, and Kurt watched from the edges of the crowd as Finn and Rachel began to dance. After a few bars of "We've Got Tonight," couples started drifting onto the floor, and Kurt wasn't surprised to feel Blaine's hand at the small of his back, nudging them forward into the crowd. It wasn't at all embarrassing. Kurt could barely remember the boy he'd been junior year, when he'd been forced into being in the spotlight.

"This is so much better than last year," Kurt whispered into Blaine's ear once they were swaying gently back and forth. "Thank you again."

"You're welcome, Kurt." He heard Blaine's soft sigh of contentment as he held him a little closer. "You really deserve to have that."

It was a mark of how safe and comfortable he was feeling that he didn't even flinch when a figure stepped in close, putting a heavy hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt looked up to see Dave standing there. His jaw was tense, but he didn't appear to be upset.

"Do you mind?" Dave nodded at Blaine.

"Not at all." Blaine stepped aside, gesturing for Dave to take his place. Kurt just stared at Dave, unable to make sense of the situation, but Blaine didn't even look surprised.

"I still owe you a dance," Dave said softly. "From last year."

"David. You don't have to." Kurt's heart was fluttering. He didn't want Dave to feel like he owed Kurt _anything_. He'd thought they were past that in their friendship.

He watched Blaine give him a little wave, backing away. Then Blaine walked over to where Becky Jackson was standing alone and offered her his hand.

"I _want_ to," Dave said. He put a careful hand on Kurt's hip and shifted both of them so that they were standing almost as close as Kurt and Blaine had been. Kurt's hand went automatically to rest on Dave's shoulder, the other on his waist, just as he'd taught Finn how to dance for their parents' wedding. "I'll include the caveat that I'm going to try not to step on your feet, but I can't promise anything."

"It's okay." Kurt ducked his head and smiled to himself. "As long as nobody ends up with a broken nose, we'll be fine."

"Okay." Dave took a deep breath and shuffled a little closer to Kurt as the music continued. They glanced over at Jamie and Hank from PFLAG, who smiled and gave them a quick thumbs up.

Dave's posture was tense, his arms stiff when they should have been loose. "Relax," Kurt said after a minute. "It can't be _that_ different from dancing with a girl."

"God, Kurt," Dave muttered. "It's completely different. I mean... no, it's not, mechanically, but..." He gave him a reproachful look, stumbling a little, and tightened his grip on Kurt's hips. "I don't think I need to tell you how it's different."

"Puzzle pieces," Kurt mumbled.

Dave blushed. "That's a hell of a metaphor for a public place."

Kurt suspected his own blush was giving Dave's a run for its money. "_Not_ what I meant. _Not at all_ what I meant. It just- when I tried . . . being straight. When I pretended to be straight and I kissed Britt, it was all wrong. But when Blaine and I kissed, it was like all the mismatched pieces of my puzzle were gone and everything just made sense, you know?"

"Yeah." Dave watched Kurt's face. From this close, their height difference was exaggerated; even though Kurt had grown a few inches since junior year, Dave had, too. "I do know. I tried that for so long, myself. Seems kind of impossible when I think about it now. How did I ever expect that would work?"

"You were scared. Please don't beat yourself up over it."

"I'm working on it," Dave said, with a self-deprecating little laugh.

It made Kurt want to grab him and hug him as tightly as he could, and tell him _don't treat yourself that way, _but he suspected that kind of behavior would just make Dave more self-conscious. Instead he swayed with the music, trying to breathe evenly. Then he grew worried that Dave would think he was sniffing his cologne, which he most definitely was _not._ Even if it did smell good, and was maybe making him a little dizzy. He slid his hands over Dave's back, feeling Dave's sharp inhalation. "Um... Kurt?"

"Thank you for coming to my prom," Kurt murmured. He let himself relax a little more against Dave's broad chest. "Really, it made it better."

"Yeah?" Kurt could feel Dave brushing his face against his hair, almost as though he were kissing Kurt's head. It was far more intimate than Kurt knew what to do with, but here he was, dancing with David Karofsky at his senior prom, and he decided firmly that he wasn't going to freak out. _Because this is good. It's so good._

"So good," he echoed his thoughts. Suddenly he stopped, and Dave stopped, and they stared at one another as though they both were realizing exactly what was going on. Kurt felt the hairs all along his scalp rising as one. He couldn't make a sound.

Then Dave took a stumbling step away from him, and then another, and with one apologetic grimace, he took off for the rear door of the gymnasium. The song was nearly over, and it didn't look as bad as it could have, but Kurt felt the loss in his arms, the cold emptiness of Dave's absence. _More,_ his body keened, in a way he'd never quite felt before. He followed, almost without realizing he was doing it.

"Kurt?" he heard someone call, but he wasn't sure who'd said it, and he just choked out, "Be right back -" as he fell against the push bar on the door, nudging through it, and found himself in an empty starlit field behind the school.

"Dave?" he called, his voice hushed in the darkness.

He heard Dave's breathing, and followed it to where Dave was propped against the brick wall of the building, arms folded around him in protection. Kurt was a little shocked Dave wasn't commenting on how loud Kurt's heartbeat was; it sounded like a kettle drum to his own ears.

"Looks like I haven't done a very good job of changing my behavior," Dave said bitterly. Kurt put a hand on his shoulder, letting it rest there.

"I'm okay with that," he said, "considering I like you pretty well the way you are."

Dave's expression remained somewhat doubtful, but he gave Kurt a short nod and stood a little taller. "You mean I haven't ruined _another_ prom for you?"

"You didn't ruin _last_ year's prom. That was neither of our faults and you know it." Kurt took a breath, held it for a handful of seconds, and let it out. "And you certainly didn't ruin tonight. Dancing with you . . . that was . . ." Kurt trailed off. The only word he could think of was magic, but it felt so cliche and _expected_. "It was really special," he finally managed to say.

Dave nodded, his eyes on the blacktop. "I've never- I mean, the locker room-" He waved his hand vaguely. "I wonder what it means that the only boy I've ever touched _like that_ has been you."

Kurt swallowed his gasp. "It doesn't have to mean anything," he managed.

"You just don't get it," Dave snapped. His words were edged with frustration. "You _have _a boyfriend. You _know_ who you are. You're Kurt fucking Hummel, and I'm big dumb Dave Karofsky, and maybe it doesn't mean anything to you. But Kurt?"

Kurt stared at Dave. His heart was beating triple-time, and everything between them felt new and still familiar at the same time. "What?"

"It means fucking _everything_ to me. It always has." Dave blinked, and Kurt thought he saw tears catching the starlight in Dave's eyelashes.

"David-" Kurt started, but Dave was moving away from him toward the bleachers. His dress shoes slipped on the grass, still damp from the sprinklers, and he scrambled to catch up. "David. Please. Just _wait_!"

Dave pulled up just short of the track, his back toward Kurt and his hands clenching and unclenching in time with Kurt's own heartbeat. "It's not fair of you to ask me that." Dave's voice was strangled. "I've been waiting for you for _three fucking years_, Kurt. Three _years_, and I'm never going to have you so don't think you can just tell me it's going to be okay and then walk away like I was just some poor sad closet case who used to have a crush on you."

Kurt caught up to him, his brain and his mouth tripping over each other to get words out. "Now _you're_ the one who doesn't get it, David. We're not fifteen anymore. Hell, we're not even the same kids we were junior year. I think you're my best friend." He let out a small bitter laugh. "I've never had a best friend. But it's so much more than that." He wanted to reach out and grab Dave's hand, but he was oddly self-conscious about his sweaty palms, so he just inched closer and nudged Dave carefully with his arm. "I love you."

Dave looked almost disgusted. "You _love_ me?" he scoffed. "You don't have any fucking idea what you're talking about. How desperate do you think I am?"

"I'm telling you the truth. I. Love. You." He stepped in front of Dave and shuffled closer to that they were standing toe to toe. "Hey." He pressed a hand to the back of Dave's neck. "Look at me."

Dave shifted his gaze from where he'd been staring fixedly at the uprights in the endzone. Kurt could see defensiveness and fear there, and long-suppressed pain. He felt suddenly very calm.

"We've been avoiding this all spring," said Kurt. "I wasn't ready to deal with it either. But it's not going away." His free hand brushed against the collar of Dave's shirt, landing flat on his lapel. "I haven't been able to think about anything else since that night you stayed over."

"Kurt," Dave whispered. He was practically vibrating with the effort to remain still. Kurt's hand curled into a fist, grasping Dave's tuxedo jacket, and hauled him forward. Dave must have been off-balance, because he nearly fell right onto Kurt, making a surprised grunt.

"Right now," Kurt said, breathless with adrenaline. Dave's brow furrowed.

"Right now?"

"It's _time,_ dammit," he said, moving further into Dave's space. He pressed the length of his body against Dave and the momentum forced them back a couple of steps. "It's fucking _time_."

Kurt grabbed Dave's face in his hands and surged up to kiss him. He felt Dave's shock and fear in the way he resisted the kiss, but Kurt wasn't about to stop, at least not until some of Dave's brick walls cracked a little bit.

"Don't," he said. He held on with both hands, determined to make Dave feel it. He could see the whites of Dave's eyes. "Don't run away this time. Please."

Dave let out his breath slowly, and even as it was clear he was wrestling with more than he could name, he nodded. This time when Kurt kissed him, all the resistance was gone. Dave was moving too, his hands on Kurt's shoulders, his waist, snaking under his jacket and finally settling, warm and secure, at the small of his back.

"Kurt," Dave said again, but now the word wasn't a protestation.

"It's okay to want this," Kurt said, low, into Dave's ear, and felt Dave shudder. "You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want."

"God, Kurt," he groaned. His hands tightened on Kurt's ass, pulling him in closer. "I want you so much, I can't even tell you. There's nobody like you. Nobody."

Kurt could feel exactly how much Dave wanted him, but he wasn't going to risk making him self-conscious by bringing it up. He touched his face, kissing him again, gently, then more hungrily, and thrilled to the sounds Dave was making. He could feel Dave's hands fumbling at his shirt, and they both startled when Dave managed to undo a single button. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Dave to slide his hand under the cloth and brush Kurt's stomach.

"Oh, _fuck_," Dave whispered, and shivered a little bit. "I want, but- but- I _can't_."

It wasn't the same kind of shame that Kurt had heard in Dave's voice the previous spring on a night not too different from that one, but it was close enough that Dave's words made him take a step back. Dave turned away, rubbing a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck.

For the first time since he'd left the dance floor, Kurt thought of Blaine, and he flushed hot, his hand coming to rest on his own stomach where his shirt gaped open. His other hand fluttered over his lips, wet and swollen with Dave's kiss. Neither of them said anything for several long moments.

Then Dave opened his mouth, but Kurt stopped him with a glare. "Don't you _dare_ say you're sorry."

The words died on Dave's lips and he just shook his head. "I can't do this."

Kurt nodded, trying not to feel hurt. "You don't have to explain."

"No, I have to. I don't want you to think - it's just that you deserve so much more than this." Dave gestured with his hands, indicating himself. "You deserve to be happy."

"What makes you think you don't make me happy?" Kurt tilted his head and peered at Dave in the darkness.

"All I ever do is hurt you, and abandon you, and make you worry. I'm no good for you, Kurt. I don't even know how good I am for _myself_, most days."

"David," Kurt sighed. He crossed the space Dave had made between them and took his hand. "You're _so_ good. I know you don't see it, but you _are_."

Dave shook his head, swallowing, but he didn't pull away. "You don't understand."

"Then help me. Help me understand."

Before Dave could reply, they heard the rusty hinges of the gymnasium door, and a familiar voice calling, "Kurt?"

"Finn," Kurt sighed. He called back, "Be there in a minute."

"It's the last dance, man," Finn said, approaching them, but he stopped when he saw who was standing there. Kurt watched his eyes flicker back and forth between him and Dave. "Oh. Uh -"

"I'll be there _in a minute," _Kurt said again, more forcefully, and Finn turned around and made a hasty retreat.

Dave had backed up when Finn had approached, and the space between he and Kurt felt physically _and_ emotionally uncrossable. "Don't," he muttered, with a little shake of his head.

"David-" Kurt started, but Dave was walking backwards and Kurt couldn't make his own feet move.

"Have a good life, Kurt." The words were gentle, not cruel, but they cut Kurt anyway, and he sucked in a breath. Dave's eyes were pained, almost desperate. "I really, _really_ want that for you."

It wasn't until the hum of the motor of Dave's car had merged imperceptibly with the sounds of the night that Kurt was able to walk the twenty feet to the bleachers and sink down onto the cool metal. He fixed his shirt and then sat staring at the football field. He felt sick and numb, and he knew he had no right to feel like his world had just ended, not when Blaine was waiting for him inside. He barely registered the squeaking of the gym doors again, or the sound of voices and music.

The bench squeaked, and then there was warmth next to him, and the familiar scent of Finn's aftershave.

"You okay, man?" Finn asked.

"He left," Kurt said without elaboration.

Finn sighed. "I'm... guessing that means no." He slid an arm around Kurt's back and gave him a little squeeze.

"Aren't you going to tell me to stop thinking about what I don't have, and focus on what I do?"

"No," said Finn.

Kurt had nothing left to say. He'd given Dave all of his words. Instead, he rested his head against Finn's shoulder and ignored the tears running down his cheeks.

* * *

Kurt slept late the morning after prom, and woke groggy and irritable. He was wrung out from rehashing the details of the night with Blaine. Blaine had mostly listened, patient and calm and objective, until Kurt had asked him to leave so he could get some sleep, at which point he'd burst into tears and Kurt had spent the next hour reassuring him. Now it was morning, and he had a lot to think about - and he needed coffee to even begin to make sense of it all.

He dressed quickly, intent on getting to the Lima Bean before he had to try to be civil to anyone, and he almost missed the rectangle of paper sticking out from under his windshield wiper.

It proved to be an envelope, his name written on the front in Dave's block printing. He climbed into the driver's seat and popped the flap open. The letter was two pages, and Kurt was crying before he got through the first paragraph.

_Dear Kurt-_

_I know this is going to make you mad, but I need to say it anyway._

_I'm sorry._

_Maybe it's not worth much, but it's the truth. I'm sorry for hurting you, for taking advantage of you, for not being brave enough to stand up and dance with you last year. _

_I feel like a coward for so many reasons, but mostly for not having the guts to tell you last night just how much you mean to me. You trusted me with your honesty. You said that you love me. I love you, too, but you have Blaine and I'm a freaking mess, and it's never going to work between us, not like you deserve. Because Kurt, you deserve everything, and I would give it to you, no questions asked. _

_I wish I could completely believe you, that you love me. There's absolutely no reason you should feel that way, not after everything that's happened between us. I wish I could trust your faith in the power of love. I wish I could believe what Blaine told me, that he was okay with us kissing, but I don't understand how he __**could**__ be. I wish a lot of things. I wish I could have everything __**I**__ want._

_You don't even realize . . . you're all I've ever wanted, from the first day I saw you._

_You're going to New York, and I should be going there, too. I got into Columbia, but I turned them down. I can't be there, in that city, with __**you**__. Not when Blaine is going to be in Lima for another year._

_I can't face the possibility of being so close to you and having to stay so far away._

_So I'm going away, I don't know where yet. Wherever I get the urge to go, I guess. I'm leaving for London today, and I'll figure the rest out as I go._

_Please don't call. Please just try to forget, and maybe someday we can be friends again._

_-Dave_

He let the letter fall to his lap and just sat there for several long minutes, unable to think about what Dave had said, just feeling so goddamned lost and impossibly angry at Dave for giving him this and then walking away. Eventually, though, the ideas began to filter out, and Kurt focused on one particular line: _I wish I could believe what Blaine told me, that he was okay with us kissing, but I don't understand how he __**could**__ be._

"Blaine," he bit out, and fished his phone out of his pocket. He didn't feel like talking, so he tapped out a text to Blaine. _Lima Bean in an hour? We should talk._

Blaine's reply was instantaneous; it made Kurt wonder if Blaine had been just sitting up and staring at his phone for hours. _Yes. Please._

Kurt knew he needed to get moving, then; needed to go back inside and start his day properly, but his Nav felt like a refuge so he sat for a handful of moments just staring at Dave's letter, wondering where things had gotten so terribly twisted up between them.

Who was he kidding. Things had _always_ been twisted up between them.

He took a few deep and slightly shuddery breaths, folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket with his phone, and got out of the car.

An hour gave Kurt time enough to take a shower and clean himself up, but he didn't feel any clearer inside when he saw Blaine sitting at their usual table at the Lima Bean, Kurt's steaming glass of mocha waiting for him.

He paused beside the table, close enough to take Blaine's hand, though he did not. "You and I talked for over two hours after prom, Blaine," he said tightly, "and you didn't think to _mention_ to me that you and Dave had _discussed_ this?"

"It was for you, Kurt." Blaine looked wounded. "I know you care about him, don't deny it. How could you walk away from high school and leave things the way they were, with nothing but that awful memory in the locker room?"

"It was _my memory,_ Blaine," said Kurt. "Mine, and David's. You had no right to interfere with that."

"You sounded so sad, after that night that he stayed over. I just wanted to make it okay for you guys to, you know, figure things out." Blaine shrugged and fixed Kurt with one of his disarming grins. "It was a kiss. It's not that big a deal."

Kurt sighed. God, he was _so_ tired. "Maybe it's _not_ a big deal for you, but you can never know everything about other people. You have no _idea_ what it meant to me, or to David."

"I just thought-" Blaine began, but Kurt's hurt and anger was starting to grow sharp.

"No," Kurt insisted. "No. That's the whole problem, you _didn't_ think. You didn't think about what it would feel like for David to kiss another guy's boyfriend, or how it would feel for me to wonder whether my kissing him would hurt you. And you certainly didn't think about what it would feel like for him to _leave_ me." Kurt slammed the folded square of Dave's letter on the table. "He's leaving, and I'll probably never see him again."

Blaine's eyes were wide and sad. "You can't blame this all on me, Kurt. You made the choice, out there behind the school. I wasn't going to stop you, but - _you_ kissed him. Tell me you didn't want that."

"I _did_ want that, but I wanted it for me and David, not for _you_." Kurt shook his head and lowered his voice. "So many people have their hands all _over_ pieces of my relationship with him. Didn't we deserve to have at least _one_ thing that was just ours?"

Blaine leaned away, crossing his legs and settling his hands on top of the table with an unhappy shake of his head. "God, Kurt. I never expected you to be so selfish about this. All I want is for you to be happy."

Kurt thought about Blaine's words for a minute as he settled into the chair across from him. "What if I wasn't happy?" he asked carefully.

Blaine frowned and stared at his hands. "With me?" His voice was soft and a little sad, and Kurt watched almost every ounce of confidence ooze out of Blaine with every breath. "Are you unhappy?"

"I don't know," Kurt admitted finally. "All I know is that I feel like there's maybe a lot we still don't know and understand about each other."

Blaine's fingers knotted more tightly. "Are you saying you don't want to try anymore? Because I don't want to give up on us. You mean the world to me, Kurt, you know you do."

"I know." Kurt toyed with the edges of an empty sugar packet. "And you mean the world to me, too, Blaine. You _do_. But we're still so young; I have to wonder if it would be better for us to take a little break before we hurt each other so badly that we'd never be able to be recover."

"A break," said Blaine. He nodded slowly. "You're not - we're not breaking up. You just want some time apart, to see what life is like without one another?"

"Yes. I think it could be good for us. And maybe when we start up again, we'll be even stronger."

He watched Blaine's shoulders relax as he nodded again. "I think that's something I can believe in." He reached across the table and took Kurt's hand suddenly, grasping it tightly, his gaze imploring. "I really do believe in us."

"I know," Kurt reassured him, squeezing Blaine's hand. "I believe in us, too."

Kurt knew he wasn't saying it just to appease him. He really _did_. But the lightness and relief he felt as he walked back to his car felt significant, too. Whatever he and Blaine were, whatever they were going to become, they needed this time apart to make it matter.


	2. Chapter 2

**2014**

Kurt was changing after dance class when his phone buzzed on the floor of his locker. He ignored it in favor of buttoning his jeans and slipping his shirt over his head. It rattled again, and Keith smiled at him from the next locker. "Someone wants you."

Kurt snorted. "The only someone who could possibly want me is in Abnormal Psych with a professor who will confiscate any cell phones he finds being used in class."

Unless. Kurt's heart beat a little faster remembering that day when Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury pulled him out of class to tell him about his dad. He grabbed his phone and swiped at it, muttering _please not Dad_ under his breath like a prayer. He didn't recognize the number, but he clicked on the first text anyway and almost dropped his phone.

_It's Dave. I'm in the city. Can we meet?_

Keith nudged his hand, and Kurt realized he was still standing there with his sock in one hand and his shirt on the bench beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "Yeah. Just-" he waved his phone vaguely. "Just an old friend I never expected to hear from again. He's in the city and wants to meet."

"An old boyfriend?" Keith teased, swinging his bag onto his shoulder.

Kurt just shook his head. "It's complicated," he said, and turned his attention back to his phone.

He slowly typed out a reply. _Dave, I can't believe it. How long will you be in town?_

_I'm flying out this evening. I have about three hours before I should head to the airport. Can I not buy you some coffee?_

Kurt smiled. _Of course. I just finished for the day. There's a Starbucks on the corner of 45th and 7th Ave, near Times Square. Meet you there in half an hour?_

_Three blocks from there. I hoped you'd say yes. Do you still drink mochas?_

Kurt finished dressing in record time, and tapped his reply as he raced out of the locker room, an unexpected lightness in his step and a little flutter in his stomach. _On my way._

* * *

Kurt almost didn't recognize Dave, sitting at a corner table with two steaming cups and a plate with a piece of coffee cake and a brownie on it. He was looking for the boy he'd last seen on prom night, scared and upset and not so confident. The Dave in Starbucks was tanned and had a good haircut and looked at ease in himself in a way that both startled Kurt and made him happy.

"Wherever you've been, it suits you," he said without preamble as he slid into the chair across from Dave.

Kurt watched Dave take him in, heard his low whistle. "You, too. Damn, Kurt. How is it possible that you grew up even _more_?"

Kurt found himself flushing, which was kind of silly, considering he spent the day being looked at by all kinds of people who judged him based on his appearance. "I keep getting taller, for some reason. My dad has no idea where those genes came from. Possibly the mailman, we can't be sure."

Dave laughed and shook his head. "God, I've missed you, Kurt." He toyed with a wooden stir stick and lowered his eyes. "But I'll understand if you didn't miss me. I shouldn't have just disappeared like that."

"You said you were going to," Kurt pointed out. "I was prepared never to see you again."

"I was- I was pretty messed up back then." Dave shrugged. "Hell. I guess I'm still a little messed up, but I guess I finally stopped hating myself for it."

"When did that happen?" Kurt asked.

"Probably on an airplane between Dublin and Berlin, or maybe Amsterdam. I'm not sure. I just know that once I'd been gone for about six months, I started to feel different."

Kurt nodded, trying not to be too obvious about staring at Dave, but _damn._ "You... look different."

"I'll always be glaringly American the minute I open my mouth, but sometimes it's still nice to blend in a little."

Kurt poked his fork into a corner of the brownie. "So you're still where? Europe?"

Dave nodded. "I went to London, first, and then Dublin and Berlin. Portugal. Lisbon is a really beautiful city, which I didn't expect. A couple different places in France."

"Paris?" Kurt asked, because he'd always wanted to go there. He nibbled a corner off his forkful of brownie.

"Nope. Normandy, most recently. I had a great-uncle who was part of the Allied Invasion. It was pretty intense, kind of like being at Arlington Cemetery or the battlefields at Antietam. I was just in Ohio for my dad's 50th birthday, but I'm headed back tonight."

"How was Lima?"

Dave rolled his eyes at Kurt, setting his coffee on the table. "I'm a world traveler and you want to hear about _Lima_? Come on, Kurt, what the hell's with this small talk? I never thought we expected that from each other."

Kurt stared at Dave, his breath coming a little quicker than he'd have liked. "I don't know what we're doing here, David. I mean, I told a classmate that we were old friends, but it didn't feel that way two summers ago, and it doesn't feel that way now. What do you _want_ from me?"

Dave planted his hands on the table and Kurt startled a little. "You know, I could have booked my flight through Boston or D.C. I didn't _have_ to come to the city, but I _wanted _to. I wanted to see you because I miss you, even if I'm not supposed to."

The anger rose up inside him, unexpectedly intense. Kurt gave up trying to pretend he was okay. "Look, you _left_ me, Dave. You didn't even give us a chance to figure things out, you were just _gone_. And here you are, breezing back into my life like it hasn't been _two fucking years_. I think about you all the time, wonder where you are and how you are. If we were just friends, I highly doubt you'd still affect me that much. What am I supposed to do in two and a half hours when you're on a damn plane again to god knows where?"

"Budapest," Dave offered carefully. "Budapest and Sarajevo and Prague, and then maybe Bucharest. I promised my dad I'd come home for Christmas this year, though."

"Now who's making small talk?" Kurt mumbled. He crammed the last of the brownie into his mouth and chewed angrily.

"I just didn't want God to be the only one who knew where I'd be."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "You still know how to make me laugh," he said around his mouthful of brownie. Dave's eyes twinkled.

"You're making it really hard for me not to flirt shamelessly with you."

"I would flirt back," Kurt admitted.

"And Blaine? What would he say about that?"

He sat back, avoiding Dave's eyes. "Blaine and I have an . . . arrangement - don't give me that look. We broke up after I graduated, and it took a while for us to both decide we were ready to try again, even after he moved to the city. By then he'd already found a place in the New York scene, which, let me tell you, is all about hooking up. So he still does that, sometimes."

"And you?" Dave finished off the last of his coffee and pushed his empty cup into the middle of the table. "Are you . . . in the scene?"

Kurt bit his lip, but lost the battle to not laugh. "No. _No."_ He shook his head. "That's... really not my thing."

"But there is someone, isn't there? Because I _know_ you, Kurt. You wouldn't let Blaine do that if you weren't at least _interested_ in someone else."

"Someone else," Kurt agreed. "That's actually a pretty dumb question, Dave. You should know the answer to that."

Dave looked genuinely puzzled. "I don't- _oh_. _Oh!_ Me?" he squeaked.

"A gold star for Mr. Karofsky. Yes, David. Maybe I'm crazy, but here I am, still waiting for you. I think . . .." he trailed off, feeling betrayed by his lack of anything resembling a brain-to-mouth filter when it came to Dave.

"What?"

"I think . . . I've always just been waiting for you to come back into my life so we could try to finish all the things we _didn't_ get to on prom night."

Dave opened his mouth and left it open, his eyes darting back and forth between Kurt's hands, his face, the floor. "God," he said, shifting a little in his seat. "That's a hell of a thing to say to a guy before he gets on a plane and flies three thousand miles away."

"That's not what I meant," he protested. "I just mean... David, that spring, I feel like I got to have the best friend I'd always wanted. And then you left, and I - I missed you, so much."

Dave's eyes flashed with sadness and something a little dark. "I wasn't ready for you then, Kurt. I wanted to be. I knew how much you wanted it, but I couldn't give that to you. I honestly don't know if I can now either. I'm not a mess like I was then, but I also know that I wouldn't be going back to Europe if I wasn't still a little lost, you know?"

Kurt reached across the table and took Dave's hand in his own. "It's okay. God, I really wasn't going to tell you any of that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I think we needed to put all the cards on the table. We never did, back then." He squeezed Kurt's hand, and it felt familiar and foreign at the same time. "I didn't ever have a best friend either, you know. You kind of gave me permission to say _anything._ Even if I couldn't do that then doesn't mean I don't want to."

"Just don't be a stranger on this trip, please?" Kurt knew he didn't have the right to ask anything of Dave, but that seemed the least benign request. "And be safe?"

Dave nodded over the detritus of their snacking. "I'll do my best. Will I see you in Lima at Christmas?" He stood and started clearing away the cups and napkins.

"I don't know," Kurt said honestly. "It's a little early to be making those plans. I feel like school just got back after winter break and it's already March."

Dave nodded, stuffing all the trash into the garbage can. With nothing in his hands, he looked a little lost. "I guess we'll just have to see, then."

Kurt took a step forward, hesitating. "I don't want to go another two years without hearing from you again."

"I'll stay in touch, I promise." Dave stretched his arms out, beckoning Kurt toward him. Kurt went, and was wrapped in the warmth and strength of Dave's hug. "Thank you for this," Dave said into his ear.

"You're welcome," Kurt breathed. He was shocked with how familiar Dave's embrace and scent still were, and when he turned his head, he brushed his lips against Dave's neck almost automatically, and felt Dave's startled gasp.

"_Jesus_, Kurt," Dave sighed, and Kurt took advantage of Dave's distraction to press their lips together.

It wasn't anything like the fumbling attempts they'd made two years ago. Dave's hands tightened on Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt snaked his arms around Dave's waist. He heard Dave's groan as he deepened the kiss, and shivered.

"This... wasn't what I meant to do," he said, nuzzling Kurt's neck just below his ear. "Honestly."

"It's okay," Kurt said, stepping back an inch and smoothing his hands over the fabric of Dave's green t-shirt. "Really."

Dave closed his eyes, visibly pulling himself together, and took a deep breath, letting it out as he stepped away. "I need to go. I don't want to miss my flight."

"Right." Kurt nodded and watched as Dave shouldered a travel-worn backpack and slid out the handle on a tiny rolling suitcase. "You're traveling light. I never learned to do that."

Dave shrugged. "I have plenty of emotional baggage. I like to keep the physical stuff light to compensate." He waved once, smiled, and walked out the door without looking back.

Kurt decided watching him get in the cab and drive away would be needless torture, so he stayed at the table, knotting his hands and trying to decide what to do next.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him out of his musings. It was from Blaine. _Chinese or Indian for dinner?_

He was feeling worked up from kissing Dave. Kurt was hungry, for sure - only not for food.

_Forget dinner. I want you. Race you home._

* * *

The shower was running when Kurt let himself into the apartment. He dropped his bag and shed his clothes, leaving a trail behind him on his way to the bathroom. When he pulled aside the curtain, Blaine startled, but Kurt didn't give him a chance to react. He leaned in over the edge of the tub and grasped his face with both hands, kissing him hard. Blaine made encouraging noises, and when they paused for air, he was smiling.

"Inspirational day?"

"Uh huh," Kurt murmured and climbed carefully into the tub, kissing Blaine again. He groaned in pleasure when the hot water hit his back; dance class always left him a little sore. Blaine kneaded the muscles along his neck and shoulders, making him droop and sigh against Blaine's chest. "That feels so good."

"It's supposed to," Blaine said into the side of Kurt's neck. His arms wrapped around Kurt's waist and Kurt felt Blaine's hand wandering down to reach for his cock.

"Uh-uh," Kurt scolded, slapping Blaine's hand away playfully. "I have other plans."

Blaine chuckled, relaxing. "I won't stand in their way."

"Good," Kurt said with a little grin. He pushed Blaine to the far end of the tub, out of the way of the spray. "Against the wall," he ordered, nudging Blaine's hips with the heels of his hands, and Blaine went willingly. Kurt sunk to his knees and didn't even pause before he wrapped his mouth around Blaine's cock and swallowed him down.

"Yeah," murmured Blaine, running his hands through Kurt's hair, "you know _just_ what I like."

It wasn't Blaine Kurt was thinking about, though. He had to admit that to himself, even as he fisted Blaine roughly with one hand and worked his cock with his lips and tongue. He wanted to make Blaine cry out - but in his mind, it was someone else's voice he was listening for, another man who was submitting to his mouth, and he was pretty sure that eventually Blaine would realize it too.

He knew exactly what to do to make Blaine come; there was a kind of security in the familiarity of it, the sounds Blaine made and the movement of his hips, the pinpricks of pressure where his hands twisted and gripped in Kurt's wet hair.

"Oh, god, Kurt!" Blaine cried out again, and Kurt kept working at Blaine's cock until Blaine was pulsing on his tongue, coming down Kurt's throat. He left Blaine to recover under the spray while he climbed out of the tub, conscious of his own arousal, but he waited for Blaine to step out and dry himself off before he took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

"You really do have plans, don't you?" Blaine sounded far too thoughtful not to understand what was going on, but Kurt wasn't ready to talk about it yet. With a little pressure on Blaine's shoulder and hip, he turned him around and nudged Blaine gently onto the bed, onto his hands and knees. It was a deviation from their usual script, but Blaine didn't seem to mind. The condoms and lube were within easy reach, and Blaine was relaxed and loose from their round in the shower. It was all so comfortable and familiar - except that it wasn't.

Kurt had always liked the way Blaine felt under him, always liked the way he could cover Blaine's body with his own. But he was craving something else, _someone_ else. He was craving _Dave's_ body, wondering what it would feel like to not quite be able to blanket Dave. He held Blaine's hips hard and wondered if Dave would bruise, if Kurt held him the same way. He listened to Blaine's grunts and moans as he thrust into him again and again and wondered what Dave would sound like. Would Dave chase after his own release, moving with Kurt, or would he just take it like Blaine did? The thought sent sharp want rolling down Kurt's spine and he climaxed suddenly, unexpectedly, harder than he'd come in a long time.

They lay entwined amid the tangled duvet, sweaty and spent, Blaine's hand covering his where he rested it on Blaine's chest.

"That was hot," he said, turning to look at Kurt over his shoulder. "And I'm never going to complain when you want to fuck me senseless, but... there was someone else in bed with us, wasn't there?"

Kurt didn't know what to say. He hated to lie to Blaine, but he also didn't want to hurt him. He stayed silent. Blaine sighed, petting his hand comfortingly.

"It's Adam, isn't it? The two of you have been dancing around each other for months, and I know you've made out with him on nights when I was busy -"

"It's not Adam," Kurt whispered.

"That guy in your set design class, then. The one with the eyebrow ring?"

Kurt shook his head and took a deep breath. "David was in town this afternoon."

Blaine paused. "David... who?"

"_David_ David. Karofsky."

Blaine pulled out of his embrace, flipping over to stare directly at Kurt. "You're kidding me." He was smiling. "Dave _Karofsky?_ I thought he moved away."

"He's been traveling, quite a lot from the sound of things. He was just passing through on his way back to Europe."

He nodded, chewing on his lip. "So did you guys... you know?"

"We had coffee, like we used to back when we were going down to PFLAG."

"And?" Blaine prompted. Kurt shook his head, but Blaine pushed a little. "Hey. If all you'd done was have coffee, you wouldn't have come home ready to go like that."

_I wouldn't be so sure about that,_ Kurt thought grimly. Dave had always had the ability to get him worked up without any effort at all. He stretched out with a sigh. "Kissing. We kissed."

"I guess that means he's a good kisser, then." Blaine rested his head on his hand, and he looked at Kurt with so much affection. Kurt didn't quite understand how Blaine could be so relaxed about it.

"You're really okay with me doing that?"

Blaine laughed. "Yes, baby. I'm so okay with it. But if I remember correctly, _Dave_ wasn't all that okay with you doing that, not while you were with me. I don't want to make a mess of things again." He reached for Kurt, hugging him tight. "This relationship, it's everything to me."

"To me, too. I, um. I explained a little about our . . . situation. I don't know how it would have been if he'd been here for longer, but it was only a couple of hours and a kiss."

"Mmmm." Blaine brushed sweaty hair away from Kurt's forehead, regarding him curiously. "But you wish it _had _been longer."

"I- I-" Kurt stammered. "I don't know. Maybe? But not because I wanted more physically. I just . . . I _missed_ him, and it was nice getting to see my friend."

"You don't have to explain. I know he's important to you. That's all that matters."

Kurt stared at his own tightly interlocked fingers. "You won't mind if we keep in touch while he's away?"

"Kurt." Blaine reached out and took Kurt's hand in his. "It's really okay. I've always been able to see that being friends with Dave gives you something you need. We're going to be fine."

Kurt wished he could believe Blaine, but there was a tiny gnawing in part of his stomach that told him it _wasn't _fine, that he and Blaine _weren't_ going to be okay. That Dave Karofsky was always going to be a _thing_ between them, no matter how hard Blaine insisted he wasn't.

It ate at him, the whole time he was cleaning up and getting dressed again, and when Blaine leaned over to get his toothbrush from the counter in the bathroom, Kurt found himself clutching at him, grabbing for some sense of stability and predictability. Blaine hugged him back, and didn't ask for an explanation, and he had to be satisfied with that.

* * *

Postcards sent by Dave to Kurt over the next several months:

NORMANDY

Kurt -

I know it's supposed to be a destination, beautiful countryside and everything, but the docks remind me that this was a port city once. I feel like I'm in Dayton, watching the brick crumble around me to be replaced by soulless concrete. But I did the D-Day tour, and it was actually pretty interesting. I'll email you some photos. Heading to Giverny tomorrow to whine about how I can't paint as well as Monet.

- Dave

* * *

BUDAPEST

Kurt -

This place is certifiably weird. Lots of theaters and expensive shops and Baroque architecture. The other day I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, and I ended up in an artsy bar with a queue of about twenty rabbits hanging from the ceiling - with tits. No shit. Tomorrow I think I'll go swimming at the public bath and watch the old guys with mustaches play chess in their swim trunks.

- Dave

* * *

PRAGUE

Kurt -

Prague is really, really beautiful, a very European Old Town type of place. Bridges and squares and stone buildings. I woke up this morning and walked through the fog and really felt the age of the place. It reminded me of Budapest a little. Except recently it's filled up with Western and Central European hipster types and British girls hold their bachelorette parties there. Yeah, they're exactly as tasteless as you imagine. So there's plenty for me to be cynical about, no matter how pretty the architecture is.

-Dave

* * *

SARAJEVO

Kurt -

I went spelunking in the Bijambare caves. That was fucking terrifying. Remind me never to be trapped in an enclosed space less than two feet tall for forty-five minutes again. Even after the war, this place has a lot remaining, and it's kind of amazing to be in a city where there's an Orthodox church, a Catholic church, a mosque and a synagogue within walking distance of one another.

- Dave

* * *

BUCHAREST

Kurt -

I wish I had more hopeful things to say about Romania. I've been spending most of my time here avoiding scams and trying to figure out the currency. It's spelled RON and pronounced "lei." Don't ask me, I just do the math. The coins are bani. I'll bring some back with me when I come back to the states. There's a lot of beggars and the palace parliament is laughably beautiful. I'm trying not to think about how many schools and monasteries were destroyed to pay for those curtains made from real Romanian silk.

-Dave

* * *

LONDON

Kurt -

What do you want? It's fucking London.

Merry Christmas.

-Dave

* * *

Kurt didn't go home for Christmas. He'd initially wanted to, but his dad and Carole hadn't experienced a New York Christmas before, and Finn had a new girlfriend who was from Connecticut, so the entire family descended on Kurt and Blaine.

Christmas night, he and Blaine sat silent and turkey-stuffed, watching _The Sound of Music_ on the Family Channel. "I'm really glad they all went back to the hotel," Kurt said, resting a hand on his stomach. "And I'm especially glad that we don't have to eat any more food."

"What? You're not enjoying the gluttony of the season?"

"You could stuff me in the oven and I'd be a _second_ turkey dinner in a couple of hours."

Blaine snorted. "That's kind of a gross idea, actually."

They were interrupted by Kurt's phone buzzing across the coffee table. Blaine paused the movie because the dance in the garden was rapidly approaching and that had always been Kurt's favorite part. Kurt answered the call without really looking at the caller ID. "Are you lost again, Dad? The hotel is still _east_ of Broadway, not west."

"You know," said Dave's voice, amused, "after spending hours poring over old city directories online, I feel like there's no way I could get lost in this place."

"You're _here_?" Kurt's voice squeaked with surprise. "I thought you were in Lima for Christmas."

"Yeah, well. I ended up bailing on London sooner than I'd planned. I'm not used to being in one place for very long anymore and I think I made my dad a little crazy. He gave me a little job to do, so I came here to do it. I'm headed out again tomorrow, though."

Kurt was aware of Blaine watching him, but when he looked over at him, Blaine let his gaze grow vague and disinterested. "Do you - I mean, I don't suppose..." Kurt paused, uncertain of how to handle this, because while it seemed completely gauche to leave his boyfriend at home to meet another guy, he _really_ didn't want to miss the opportunity to see Dave.

"Kurt," Blaine said quietly. "Just go meet him somewhere. I'll be here when you get back."

"Will you . . ."

Blaine's lip twitched. "Yes, I'll leave the movie paused. I won't let the garden dance go on without you."

Kurt lifted his fingers off the speaker on his phone. "Do you have time for a drink?"

"Yeah," Dave said. "That would be nice."

"If you don't mind people singing, there's a piano bar on Central and Dekalb. I'm leaving as soon as I roll myself off the couch, I'll meet you there in 15 minutes?"

He heard shuffling and Dave's voice was a little muffled as he gave the address to the cabbie. "Sounds good. Tell Blaine Merry Christmas for me, and thank him for sharing you with me tonight?"

"I will. See you in a bit," Kurt said. He thumbed at his phone to end the call and he thought he heard Dave's voice echoing _walk safely, _but he wasn't sure.

"You should wear your new sweater," Blaine called after him as he stumbled toward the bathroom. "It makes your shoulders look great."

Kurt splashed a little cold water on his face and raised his voice over the running water so Blaine could hear him. "It's a _drink_, not a booty call."

Blaine laughed. "What happened to _every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion?_ Anyway, you could wear a thrift store jogging suit and Dave would still look at you like you were a piece of coffee cake."

"Dave's seen me in pajamas. I don't need to dress up for him." _I've __**never**__ needed to dress up for him_, Kurt thought, tugging the new sweater over his head anyway. Maybe he didn't need it to impress Dave, but he sure as hell did need it to keep warm.

* * *

He found Dave at a table in one corner of the piano bar, far enough away from the stage to give them a little privacy and space to talk, but with an unimpeded view.

"I was going to buy you a drink," Dave said, standing to hug him, "but I realized I have no idea what you like."

"Jack and Coke," Kurt said, shrugging out of his coat and tucking his scarf and hat into his sleeve; he didn't need to lose another set.

"Coming right up."

Kurt watched him lean over the bar, ordering their drinks and laughing with the bartender, and decided Dave didn't look too bad in a sweater himself.

When Dave set Kurt's drink in front of him and settled back into his chair, Kurt found his voice. "What are you doing here? And why didn't you call me before tonight?"

"I'm sorry, but I've been immersed in family research. There's only so much you can learn on the Internet. The records on file at the county courthouse are fascinating - I spent three hours this morning reading passenger manifests for these ships..." He paused, watching Kurt's face, and gave a little embarrassed laugh. "I'm being a complete geek, aren't I."

"No," Kurt said, shaking his head slowly. "I just feel like I've been dropped into a story right in the middle and I'm missing something."

"My dad's always been into genealogy, but he was only able to trace back so far in Ohio. There were family rumors, of course, but we've never had anything more concrete than notations in my grandmother's Bible." Dave leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink, which looked milky and sweet. "But I compared what I knew with what I could find online, and filled in a lot of blanks in our family history that way. Since I've been here, I've been visiting cemeteries and I took the ferry out to Ellis Island on Monday. It was cold, but the museum is _amazing_."

"Wait, wait - how long _have_ you been here?" Kurt felt a pang of hurt, and immediately was guilty about it. _As though David couldn't have his own life that doesn't have anything to do with me._

"Two weeks." Dave looked at the table, as if he knew somehow that Kurt felt stung. "It wasn't that I didn't want to see you, I was just . . . _consumed_. This stuff, my family, it's like this puzzle. Everywhere I've been over the last two years has felt aimless. Now, for the first time, I feel like this is giving me direction."

"It's okay, David. Really." He reached out and took his hand, resting on the table. "It's wonderful to see you so passionate about something, even..."

"Even if I'm turning into an even bigger dork than the kid who forged your handwriting on your calculus homework?"

Kurt smiled, sipping his drink. "Um. Even if it's not me that you're being passionate about."

Dave flushed red in the dim light of the bar. "I'm sorry, about that. About interrupting your night with Blaine. I shouldn't- I don't- I really have no rights to you, Kurt."

"I don't _belong_ to anyone," he said, feeling edgy.

"I didn't mean it that way. God, I always say the wrong thing. I just meant..." He sighed heavily and knocked back the remainder of his drink. "I meant that it's not fair of me to keep expecting you to drop everything to cater to my whims. You have a life here, Kurt. Whereas _my_ entire life is in a backpack and the world's tiniest suitcase."

Kurt shook his head, laughing. He didn't let go of Dave's hand. "I know. I know all those things, and... and sometimes I still do think about dropping everything and following you, you know? I mean, it sounds amazing, what you're doing." He felt the intensity between them, heavy and tantalizing. "It would be so much more amazing to share it with you."

Dave swallowed visibly and pushed his glass to the middle of the table. "Shit, Kurt. That's a hell of a thing to spring on me."

Kurt leaned over the table, close enough that he could lower his voice and still be heard. "You're asking me to stop being honest with you? I thought that was the best part of this friendship."

"It is." Dave fiddled with the cuff of his sweater. "I just wasn't expecting . . . _that_. Like I said, you have a life here, and I still don't have anything more to offer you than my kind of messed up self."

He laughed, hearing it come out a little hysterical. "David, you're no more messed up than me, or anyone else I know. We're just living our lives, making the best of whatever we've got. Don't tell me you'd rather not bother with... this... just because you're afraid of hurting me? Didn't we cover that ground years ago?"

Dave shrugged. "I never quite know what to think. Don't forget, I spend most of my time in hostels and on airplanes. I don't have a lot of people to talk to. Some days it feels like you're my only friend." He shook his head. "I can't risk losing that over something that never feels like it's going to work."

Kurt sighed. "I don't know either. I just think we're so much more likely to lose each other if we treat each other like strangers. Am I scared? Yes. Do I want to stop? No." He lifted Dave's hand, letting it drop back to the table with a smile. "Do you?"

Dave's fingers skated lightly over Kurt's. He met Kurt's eyes and held them, still and focused in his own gaze. "No."

Breathing felt impossible for a few seconds, and Kurt finally tore his eyes away with a shaky breath. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Dave took one more long drink from his glass and pushed the rest away, standing up quickly enough to jostle the table. "Fuck, yes."

Kurt followed Dave out of the bar, still struggling into his coat even as they tumbled out the door and onto the street. His boots skidded on a thin layer on snow that had accumulated on the sidewalk while they were inside. "Slow down. Do you even have a clue where you're going?"

"Nope," Dave replied, walking backwards. He put out a hand to steady Kurt as he slipped again. "But at least I'm dressed for the weather. This shit doesn't happen in Europe, you know, at least not on the continent. Honestly, I don't think this city's weather's got much going for it. Whatever made you think New York was the right place for you?"

"When we came with Glee Club for Nationals junior year, it was like a dream. I had never felt like I really belonged anywhere until I came here. I looked at all the people on the street and thought _in two years I'll be here with you._ I don't know that there _is_ another place for me, at least not right now."

Dave shook his head. "You have no idea, not until you go someplace else. There's so much, Kurt. So much to see, to understand. The world is a lot bigger than this self-centered country."

"Someday I want to see it all. But until I finish school, _this_ is where I belong."

They walked in silence for a minute. Kurt took Dave's hand because he wanted to, and because he could feel Dave starting to retreat. "So... your family. What did you find out about them?"

"My great-great-grandparents came here in 1908. They were processed through Ellis Island; lots of Polish Jews were. I have copies of their original entry papers, and the 1915 New York state census, and because of that I have a jumping off point. I'm going to Warsaw first."

"What do you think you're going to find?"

Dave stopped walking. He brushed the snow off a bench and sat, patted the spot next to him for Kurt to sit too. When Kurt had settled, Dave wrapped an arm around him and held him close. Even through their layers of wool and cotton, Kurt could feel the heat of his body. "I'm not under any illusions. If my ancestors managed to survived the anti-Jewish violence of the 1900's, it's a good bet that they _didn't _survive the Holocaust."

"I'll guess none of your ancestors have survived this long anyway," Kurt said drily. Dave made a face at him. "It's true, isn't it? What _are_ you looking for?"

"If I tell you I'm not exactly sure, you're going to think I'm crazy."

"It's not like you've known for the past two years, either."

"True." Dave rested his head on Kurt's shoulder. "I guess I'm just looking for connection, you know. It sounds stupid to admit that I just want to feel like I belong somewhere, or _to_ someone or something. I've never had that, not even with PFLAG."

Dave's head felt unreasonably good, leaning gently against him that way. Kurt resisted the urge to pet him like a dog. "What do you mean? I never knew you didn't feel like you belonged at PFLAG. Anyway, I was the one who didn't belong."

"It's easy to pretend around people who don't know me. That's really all I've ever done my entire life, and I'm so _tired_ of it."

Kurt nudged Dave with his forehead. "And you think that going to Poland is going to help?"

"Honestly?"

He inclined his head gravely. "Always."

"Probably not. But it probably can't hurt anything, either. And besides, my dad is really curious about what happened to the family that stayed behind." Dave put out an idle hand and ran it along Kurt's, tracing the edges of each finger. "There aren't too many things in this world that my dad and I both care about. This could be... it could help."

Kurt nodded. "I hope it does. For you _and_ for the two of you. I really want you to be happy, David."

"I'm getting there. I think I am, anyway. I think I'm figuring out how to do that."

Kurt watched their hands touching, then turned toward Dave, close enough for Kurt to feel the warmth of his breath. He paused just a moment longer before leaning closer still, waiting for his unspoken consent.

"Is this something that would make you happy?" he murmured. "Or is it just too much? I don't want to push you."

"You've never pushed me, Kurt." Dave's voice was low, rough. "I can't promise you anything. I can't even promise that I won't freak out again."

"I think I can deal with that," Kurt agreed, and pressed forward to kiss him.

It hit Kurt the same way all their other kisses had, shoving him a little off-kilter and leaving him breathless and wanting more. But this time felt less desperate, more intentional. More _real,_ like neither of them expected it to vanish any second. It was just Kurt, kissing Dave, letting him know just how much he meant to him.

Just because their kissing wasn't desperate didn't mean that it wasn't intense, though. Dave wasn't fighting anything, there on the bench in the cold. He was just kissing Kurt and letting Kurt kiss him, and if they'd been anywhere remotely private Kurt had no doubt that things would have progressed. As it was, Kurt felt lucky they weren't being scolded by anyone walking by.

Kurt let his hand, resting lightly on Dave's thigh, make one very gentle trip from hip to knee, echoing Dave's sigh before pulling away. "Maybe next time you're in the country, you won't wait two weeks to let me know?"

"I promise," Dave whispered, pressing his forehead to Kurt's. "And I'll let you know how things go, while I'm away."

He had to try once more, attempting to make the offer sound light, not - like it meant anything more than what it was. "Are you sure you don't want to come back to our place? It's Christmas."

Dave shook his head. "My flight is really early in the morning. Like, criminally early. And it- it would feel . . . awkward. Baby steps, Kurt. You know I need baby steps." He laughed lightly to himself. "Sometimes I feel like I've changed a lot, but I'm still easily spooked when it comes to any of . . . this." He waved his hand back and forth between them.

Kurt knew neither of them needed clarity for _this_ to be meaningful. Part of him wished it didn't have to be so sporadic, but that would sound like whining if he said anything, and he didn't want to leave Dave on a sour note. He smiled, rising to his feet and helping Dave up. "At least let me walk you back to your hotel?"

* * *

It was long past eight by the time Kurt returned, stamping off snow and shivering, to their tiny apartment. Blaine was wrapped up in Kurt's mom's old quilt on the couch, his head lolling back onto the edge as he dozed, but his eyes opened and he smiled as Kurt approached.

"Bet you're looking for somebody to warm you up," he said, his voice a little crackly with sleep.

Kurt had a sudden vision of what it would be like to be in this apartment with Blaine in thirty years, or forty, or fifty, Blaine sitting on the couch just like that, with that same matter-of-fact love on his face as he gazed at Kurt. It made Kurt warm inside to imagine it. He kicked off his galoshes and struggled out of his wet coat before nestling under the blanket against Blaine. The sensation was familiar and comforting, and he tried not to cling to it too hard. "Yes, please."

Blaine opened up his blanket to welcome Kurt inside, wrapping it around his shoulder and tucking it under his feet, folded up against his chest. He kissed Kurt's neck above the collar of his shirt. "Hope you don't mind it's me and not him."

Kurt shook his head. "No. It was weird - not bad, just a little tense, and... I think Dave was ready for me to go and let him get on the plane." He felt himself deflate a little as he sighed, sounding more unhappy than he'd realized he was feeling. "He doesn't really want to be here, anyway."

"I don't think that has anything to do with you, Kurt."

They watched the garden dance scene, holding hands under the blanket, and Kurt was starting to doze off in the midst of the Von Trapp family's performance at the Salzburg Festival performance when his phone rang. Blaine dug into Kurt's pocket and retrieved it, placing it into Kurt's hands without looking at the screen, but he was pretty sure neither of them could imagine it would be anyone other than Dave, calling him.

"Hey," Kurt said, trying to decide if he should move out from under the blanket to someplace slightly more private, or if that would be even more awkward.

"I'm just waiting to board," said Dave, sounding a little irritated.

"Airport giving you a headache?"

"No." He heard Dave sigh over the murmur of voices and loud announcements. "I'm just down on myself. What else is new?"

"David-" Kut began, but Dave cut him off.

"Don't. Please, Kurt. Don't try to make me feel better. Just let me feel guilty, okay?"

Kurt twisted his face into a frown even though Dave couldn't see him. "What do you have to feel guilty about?"

"I keep running away on you. It's our thing, didn't you know? We have a moment, I freak out, you reassure me, and I haul ass halfway around the world. It's what we do."

He sighed, feeling Blaine's feet digging into his hip. He pulled the blanket closer around them. "I really don't think that's worth feeling guilty about. If that's what we do, it's taken us this far."

"You're saying we shouldn't try to fix what isn't broken?" Dave was getting hysterical now. "Well, guess what, Kurt? I'm pretty fucking _broken."_

"Do you think I care about that? I know exactly who you are. I know who you are and I -" He paused and took a shaky breath. " - I love you anyway."

"Oh," said Dave helplessly. Kurt heard him choke on a sob. "I don't know how, or why, but -"

"Just let me, okay? I'm not asking for anything but that. Just let me love you, David."

Blaine reached out and grabbed for Kurt's free hand and squeezed it hard. He nodded at Kurt, as if giving his permission. Kurt smiled back at him, sad but grateful.

"Is that really all you want?"

"No," said Kurt. "It's what we've got, though."

He sat there listening to Dave's harsh breathing, waiting for him to say something else, wondering what else there was to do.

"I can't promise you anything at all," Dave finally said once his breathing had settled and the harsh sniffling that crackled over the line had stopped. "Hell, I don't even know when I'll be back in the country."

Kurt rested his head back on the arm of the couch. "I'm not asking for promises. Those postcards were nice."

Dave was silent for a moment and Kurt could hear the sharp tones of a loudspeaker in the background. "I've got to go, Kurt. We're boarding. I'll be in touch."

_I'll bet,_ Kurt thought, but he just said, "I'd like that. Hope your flight is uneventful."

Kurt tossed his phone at the coffee table with a frustrated sigh, and Blaine captured his hands, kissing them. "Dave's flipping out again, huh?"

"I just don't know what to _do,"_ Kurt moaned. "This feels so... so inadequate. He doesn't want what I have to offer, and..." He leaned helplessly into Blaine.

"It's not what you want, either." Blaine stroked his shoulder. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Kurt winced. "_No. _He doesn't even want to come over to our house. I don't think it's you, I think it's just... everything. It's too much for him."

Blaine nodded. "So, you wait. It's up to him, isn't it? He gets to live his life and make his choices. You're not responsible for making him happy."

"I just worry that all of his wandering will _keep_ him from being happy instead of helping him get there." Kurt rubbed at his eyes and burrowed a little further down under the blanket. "And I'm supposed to do what? Keep waiting? Keep settling for a few hours together every couple of months?"

"No. You keep being there for him when he needs you, and you live your life. You get to be happy too, Kurt."

Kurt peered at Blaine over the edge of the blanket, at his sloppy hair and the ratty t-shirt he wore around the apartment, and the way his eyes squinted in the bright light of the tv. "I love you, you know."

Blaine grinned, wide and happy. "I know. And I love you too."

* * *

The next time Kurt heard from Dave, it was New Year's Eve. Kurt and Blaine were at a party, full of a bunch of the kids Blaine had met his first year when he'd lived in the dorms. Usually Kurt felt out of place at those things because Blaine's friends were so different from his friends, but it was beyond nice to be with a bunch of people who weren't trying to kill each other with stiletto heels over solos and starring roles.

He was fuzzy from too many cups of punch. It had looked innocent, like the juice-soda-floating sherbet his aunt used to bring to family potlucks, but this bowl most definitely had had something extra in it.

"I love you," Kurt said, pulling Blaine close against him. "You know you're the hottest guy at this party, right?"

Blaine snagged Kurt's cup by the lip and peered inside. "You've had too much, cowboy. Here."

Blaine traded the cup for a bottle of water. Kurt frowned. "It's really good. Sweet. Like home." He knew he wasn't making any sense.

"Uh huh." Blaine just smiled at him. "Drink your water. The ball is going to drop soon."

"Can't be midnight already. Where did the night go?"

Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt and hauled him off his perch against the kitchen counter. "I think you lost it in the bottom of a cup or twelve of that punch."

"Party pooper." Kurt tried to stick his tongue out at Blaine, but Blaine leaned in and kissed him instead, sloppy and a little too forward for public. Blaine pulled away and tugged on Kurt's hand, leading him into the living room. Everyone was crowded around the tv watching the ball all lit up in Times Square. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and settled his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "Happy New Year," he whispered into Blaine's ear.

He didn't hear Blaine's reply over the cheering of the others as the ball dropped, but he did feel his phone buzzing in his back pocket. He fished it out and thumbed to his text messages while listening with half an ear to Blaine singing _Auld Lang Syne_. It was from Dave.

_Happy New Year 2015! We had our celebration last night. Warsaw is unbelievable. Headed out of the city in a day or two._

Kurt poked at his keyboard with a single thumb. _Happy New Year, David. I hope 2015 gets you closer to what you're looking for._

He didn't get another text back.


End file.
